They Seek Him Here
by LadyIngenue
Summary: Daryl has been evading the Stasi for months and smuggling people to safety. When he meets Beth he realises he might not have to work alone anymore, but can he trust her when the Governor wants to have her for himself? M for sex, language. Bethyl slow burn, AU no ZA.
1. Chapter 1

**I've wanted to write a story around the Berlin Wall for months and using it as an alternative universe for a Walking Dead fanfic just seems so appealing. The Greenes and the Dixons are no strangers to adversity and danger, and the Governor, well, he's just waiting to be corrupted by power (again!)**

 **This is primarily a Bethyl slow burn, but I'll also explore whether The Governor can be redeemed and my take on the Lori/Rick/Shane love triangle. Plus there'll be lots of Maggie and Glenn, Merle, and also some Andrea and Amy.**

 **You don't need to know ANYTHING about Berlin or East Germany in the 60s. We're here for a good story, not a history lesson. (Though there are some historical notes at the bottom if you're interested.)**

 **Here goes, I hope you like it!**

…

 _East Berlin, December 1961_

The queues were especially long that day, and Beth had waited two hours in freezing temperatures to get into the butcher's shop. When she'd finally reached the counter she'd surveyed the gristly, fatty cuts with distaste, but had no choice but to purchase them.

Tucking the paper packet under her arm, Beth walked the mile and a half home to the apartment she shared with her siblings Maggie and Shawn, shivering inside her thin coat. It was nine pm and very dark, and a few flakes of snow were falling onto the frozen ground. Her journey took her close to the Wall, and she couldn't help but cast her eyes over the looming concrete edifice, the barbed wire and the guards, all lit by bright white floodlights. Several of the guards held German Shepherd dogs on leashes.

Beth saw a troupe of Stasi soldiers headed straight toward her along the street, and felt a lurch of panic.

 _You're doing nothing wrong_ , she reminded herself. _You're on your way home from the factory with the food you've queued two hours for._ It was strange how she felt the need to rehearse it as if it were a cover story and not the truth. Ever since her father Hershel had been taken away by the Stasi she dreaded seeing their dark green uniforms and grey helmets. Her mother, Annette, she and her siblings hadn't heard from since the border closed. She'd been in West Berlin at the time. For a few weeks they'd waited for her to rejoin them, as they were unable to go to her. But she hadn't come.

The soldiers marched passed her and she let herself breathe once more.

'Fraulein.'

Beth kept walking, her head down, pretending not to have heard.

' _Fraulien!_ '

She stopped, turning slowly around, her heart racing. A Stasi soldier, an officer by the braid on his uniform, stood several feet from her. He was tall and broad through the shoulders, with a peaked cap pulled down to his eyes so that she couldn't see them in the darkness.

The she realised the officer wasn't looking at her, but at a girl standing to her right, gazing toward the Wall. Beth bit her lip. It was dangerous to pay too much attention to the Wall lest the soldiers thought you were intending to escape. She recognised the girl. Her name was Ana and she was Beth's age, eighteen, and lived in her apartment building. Her boyfriend had disappeared three months earlier without a trace.

The officer advanced toward the girl, his eyes intent. If he questioned her, Ana was in such a fragile state that she might break down, or swear at him, or say something that would get her into trouble. But it was nothing to do with Beth. She should just walk away.

'Ana!' Beth exclaimed in a bright voice, hurrying toward the girl. _What am I doing? This is insanity_. 'Sorry you had to wait for me so long. Shall we go home?'

Ana turned toward her, her unhappy eyes bewildered. _Don't say anything_ , Beth begged silently as she took the girl's arm. _Just play along_.

To her relief Ana had her wits enough about her to see that Beth was trying to help her. She gripped Beth's hand with hers and they turned toward their apartment building.

And came face-to-face with the Stasi officer.

…

Commandant Phillip Blake looked down at the two girls, one mousy and dejected, the other blonde with bright blue eyes. The act that the blonde had put on hadn't fooled him. They might know each other but they hadn't been planning a rendezvous on a street in the middle of winter.

'You,' he said to the blonde, and pointed to a spot to his right. 'Stand there. You,' he said to the mousy one, 'show me your papers.'

He inspected the documents, recognising the girl's name. Ana Mueller. She was already being watched by an informant. This part of East Berlin was Blake's district and he wasn't going to let sedition and plots flourish under his nose. Her boyfriend was a known dissident who had disappeared.

He handed the papers back. He could arrest her for intention to defect across the Wall, but he was much more interested in the blonde at that moment. 'Get home. Now. If I see you again tonight you will be arrested.'

Ana Mueller stuffed her papers in her pocket and scurried away.

Blake turned to the blonde. She had her papers ready for him and passed them into his hand. Beth Greene. The name wasn't familiar to him. Then he spied her father's name. Hershel Greene. He was in prison.

'Quite a display, there, Fraulein Greene,' he murmured, passing the papers back.

She didn't say anything, just stared up at him with those round blue eyes. She had to be panicking, talking to a Stasi officer who was openly suspicious of her, but her face gave nothing away. It was quite remarkable.

'You didn't have plans to meet Fraulein Mueller this evening, did you?' he asked.

Still, she said nothing. It was clever of her. So many people he questioned thought that words would cover their guilt, but they merely found that they were digging themselves a deeper hole. Silence was so much more effective.

He leaned forward, whispering in her ear. 'It's all right. You can tell me.' Then he stood back and winked at her.

She blinked, showing her surprise. Then she blushed. He felt himself smile as he watched her. She was such a sweet girl, slender and pretty.

'Where do you work?' he found himself asking. He was wasting time. He'd been en route to arrest two sisters suspected of collaborating with traitors to the government, but he found he wanted to spare a few minutes for this pretty blonde.

'The wireless factory,' she said, pointing over her shoulder.

A factory girl. That explained her old but carefully darned clothing and lack of ornamentation. Not even a pair of earrings. She was too good for the factory, he thought. She should be somewhere warm and comfortable during the day, not one of those dirty iceboxes. She should be someone's secretary, and wear a nice dress made from good fabric, and silk stockings.

She should be his secretary.

Frau Adler was a grim, whey-faced woman. He was sick of looking at her. Fraulein Greene would suit him much better.

'Do you like the job?' he asked.

'I am glad to work. Work sets us free.'

She knew line. All the workers did.

He smiled at her. 'Would you like a better job, fraulein?'

…

Beth walked the rest of the way home in a daze, not knowing what had happened. She'd been sure she was about to be arrested, but instead the officer had smiled at her and offered her a job. She'd stammered out an acceptance, because you didn't say no to the Stasi, ever, and he'd told her when and where to report the next morning.

He hadn't actually told her what the job would be. What if it was spying for the Stasi? She recoiled from the prospect. Informing on her fellow citizens seemed abhorrent, though she knew many were willing to take up the work for the privileges. Better food. Better housing. Better medicines. Her brother Shawn was a border guard and that meant that he, Beth and Maggie at least had heating oil in the winter, and they didn't go hungry too often.

She and Maggie were happy enough in the factory, though it was tiring work. But the Stasi terrified her. She racked her brain for a way to refuse the officer for his offer.

Lost in thought, she was close to her building when a man ran out of the shadows and collided with her. He grabbed her waist, steadying her. Her hands landed on his chest and she looked up into his face. Dark hair spilled into his eyes and grew down to his collar. His eyes were slanted like a cat's, and he felt hard and powerful beneath his black coat.

'Fraulein,' he murmured in a husky voice, tipping his head. Then he peered over her shoulder as if checking he wasn't being followed, squeezed her waist, and disappeared into the shadows on the other side of the street as fast as he had appeared.

Beth stayed where she was for a moment, looking around her, wondering what had happened. The street was silent once more.

…

Daryl Dixon was running in the shadows, not knowing if he was going to make it in time. The troupe of Stasi soldiers were right behind him. He dashed across a street – and ran straight into someone. His arms instinctively went out to them, steadying them. They were slight beneath his large hands, and he looked down into the person's face. It was a girl.

Goddamn, she was pretty. Big blue eyes and fair skin. Pink lips parted in surprise. She wore the rough clothing of a factory worker but it couldn't detract from her loveliness. He forgot what he was supposed to be doing for a few seconds as he gazed into those eyes. Then he remembered – Andrea and Amy. The Stasi were coming for them.

He squeezed the girl's waist and then he was off and running again. The sisters' apartment building was just two blocks away. As he approached the well-lit front door he flipped the collar of his coat up and shook his dark hair in front of his face. Every apartment building housed an informer, and you never knew for sure who it was. Better that no one saw his face.

He took the stairs three at a time and banged on the sisters' door. Andrea opened it, and looked shocked to see Daryl standing there. They had a careful system for meetings and it didn't involve turning up on each other's doorsteps unannounced.

'Now,' he said, breathing hard. 'Or it's over.'

Andrea nodded, pale with alarm but keeping her head. Ten seconds later the two sisters were yanking on boots and coats and following him down the hall to the back stairs.

This was messy, this was visible and Daryl didn't like it but he didn't have any choice. His informant had only just found out that an arrest warrant had been issued for the sisters and it was either get them out now or risk them being interrogated by the Stasi. The sisters knew too much. Andrea might hold out for a while, even under torture, but Amy wouldn't.

Downstairs he opened the door to the street and listened. He thought he could hear marching boots just a few streets away. He turned to the sisters. 'There's an abandoned bakery two blocks north and three blocks east. Go inside and wait for me. Run. Don't look back.'

Andrea and Amy nodded, slipped outside and were gone, running down the street. Daryl closed the door and headed to the right. He stopped in a dark alcove and waited. He had to be sure the sisters weren't being followed. If he thought they were, he would still get them out of East Berlin that night but the bakery and the tunnel hidden in its cellar would have to be abandoned.

A few minutes later he left the alcove and followed the sisters, a hand in his pocket clasped around his revolver.

The bakery was near the Wall and had closed its doors when the border was sealed as half its customers had been cut off from it. Daryl had lived there for three months with two other men and together they'd tunnelled straight down and then across to West Berlin, under the Wall and the death strip. It had been filthy, cold, dangerous work, but it had meant that he'd already got forty people out and reunited with their families in the West.

The sisters were waiting inside the shop, crouched behind the dusty counter.

'Downstairs,' he said.

In the cellar he pushed a shelving unit to one side, uncovering the tunnel entrance. He handed the sisters each torches that were hanging just inside.

Amy suddenly gave a hysterical little giggle. 'You know what? I think I left the stove on.'

Daryl gave her a wry look. 'Our mutual friends will turn it off.'

Andrea's eyes grew wide. 'The Stasi were on their way?'

'Not your problem any more.' He pushed them toward the tunnel. 'Go.'

Andrea took a hold of the rope ladder that would take them down to the tunnel floor. Then she turned back to Daryl. 'Come with us. Please, you'll be safe.'

He shook his head. 'What would I do over there? Get soft, bored? Nah. I'll skip it.'

'You can have a life,' Amy said. 'If the Stasi catch you they'll shoot you.'

Daryl considered leaving every now and then, wondering whether it was worth it, looking over his shoulder constantly. Running, hiding and lying, trying to keep one step ahead of the Stasi. But if he did leave, what was there for him on the other side of the Wall? Nothing. Merle had made that clear when he'd left him behind.

Merle could have the soft life. Daryl would have the hunt.

He smiled. 'Catch me? They fuckin' wish. Now git.'

…

 **So, what do you think of the premise? Does the historical and foreign setting work, or is it just too crazy-different from TWD universe? I'd love to hear from you!  
**

 **...** **  
**

Some historical background if you're interested, though not necessary to follow the story:

This summer I was lucky enough to visit Berlin and the Berlin Wall Memorial. It was an experience that moved me to tears as I read about families who were separated from each other and the attempts by East Berliners to escape across the Wall to the West; attempts that were dangerous, desperate and could be deadly.

The Berlin Wall is a symbol of the Cold War, of oppression, and of suffering. After the end of World War II, the Allied Forces (UK, France, USA and the Soviets) who'd fought against Hitler decided the world would be safer if they split Berlin along arbitrary lines. The uneasy alliance between these countries soon fell apart, and the Cold War began in 1947, the West on one side of the conflict and the Soviets on the other. Germany became two countries: West Germany, and the German Democratic Republic (East Germany), a Soviet satellite state. The border between East and West ran straight through the capital, Berlin, splitting it in half. (There was also the main East/West German border further to the west, confusing and strange I know.)

Throughout the 1950s, more and more East Germans emigrated to the West to seek a better life, many via Berlin. East Germany lost a large percentage of its young, educated workforce. The East Germans decided to close their borders to prevent further drain on their population, and the Soviets gave their approval. Construction of a physical barrier began in August 1961.

Thousands of East Germans attempted to escape across the Wall between 1961 and 1989. Many were successful, but others were not, and there was a grave risk: defectors could be, and were, shot on sight.


	2. Chapter 2

Maggie and Shawn were already home when Beth got in. Tiredly, she removed her coat, scarf and gloves and hung them up behind the door. She took the packet from the butchers that she'd queued two hours for through to the kitchen. It would have to do them for the next few nights.

'You're late tonight,' Maggie said, standing at the clunky white cooker and ladling lentil and spinach stew flavoured with a few pork bones into bowls. She passed one to Beth. Maggie looked as tired as Beth felt. They were always tired, working twelve-hour days at the factory.

Her brother Shawn was sitting at the yellow Formica table in his uniform shirt, eating.

'The queues,' Beth explained, sitting down with him. 'Is there a food shortage at the moment? Half the shops were shut.' She glanced at Shawn. Being a border guard he sometime heard things that ordinary people didn't. But he didn't answer, merely scowling down at his bowl. The government's inadequacies were not his favourite subject.

'Hey, Beth.' Glenn Rhees, Maggie's boyfriend, came in from the living room and joined them at the table. She liked Glenn. He was clever and witty, and he adored Maggie. He also worked at a greengrocers so there were always decent vegetables on their table, even when the meat was terrible.

Before Maggie sat down, she inspected the package Beth had brought. 'Ugh. Barely even good enough to stew. I know you did your best, though.'

'I think I can get some potatoes tomorrow,' Glenn offered. He had his own flat but he was often round at theirs. Maggie said it was easier to pool the food that they obtained and cook it in one place, but Beth knew that was mostly just an excuse for him to be there. She didn't mind, though.

'Sometimes it feels like all we talk about is where we can get food,' Maggie grumbled. 'Seeing an egg is an event. And sausages – it's been so long that I'm starting to think they're a myth.'

'You have a job, you have a roof over your head,' Shawn said, glaring at his sister. 'You think you'd be looked after so well in the West? The capitalists hog all the food for themselves and the workers go hungry.'

'I'm hungry,' Maggie mumbled, but under her breath so Shawn couldn't hear.

Beth looked at her brother a little sadly. They'd been so close when they were younger. He'd laughed and joked with her all the time. But since Hershel had been taken to prison, Annette had stayed in West Berlin and he'd become a border guard, every time he opened his mouth out came Party propaganda.

They ate in silence. Maggie had done her best with the stew but it was still quite plain. Beth couldn't concentrate, wondering if she should tell them about Ana and what had happened near the wall. Needing to confide in them, she said, 'A Stasi officer spoke to me on the way home.'

Everyone stared at her, horror etched on their faces. Even Shawn. The border guards were afraid of the Stasi, too. Everyone was.

Beth said, 'You know Ana, downstairs? She was acting really strangely, staring at the Wall.' Beth didn't specify which wall. They all knew which wall. 'A troupe of Stasi soldiers marched past and the officer called out to her. She looked so upset and suspicious that I grabbed her and pretended we were meeting. He … he let her go.'

Maggie had turned pale. 'Beth, you didn't. It had nothing to do with you.'

She stared round the table. No one was eating. 'I couldn't just let them take her away. She would have said something dangerous about her brother, about the government, I was sure of it. I had to help her.'

'What did the officer say to you?' Glenn asked.

'He checked my papers and asked me if I know Ana,' she said, fibbing slightly, 'and then he offered me a job.' They all looked at each other, as confused as she was.

'Who was the officer?' Shawn asked.

Beth thought hard, trying to remember his name. 'Commandant Blake.'

Shawn raised both his eyebrows and then looked down at his food.

She grabbed his arm, suddenly afraid. If Commandant Blake was infamous it could only be bad news. 'What? Do you know him?'

He shook her off, annoyed. 'Of course I don't know him. I know of him. He runs the security for this district.'

'What's he like?' Maggie asked.

Shawn thought for a moment. 'Unpredictable.'

Glenn nodded. 'I heard that too. Charming one minute, and then ruthless the next. I've seen him being driven around in a big black imported car.'

Beth remembered the way the commandant had snapped at her to stand on one spot and wait, and then a few minutes later had winked at her and offered her a job. Unpredictable seemed like a good description.

'What's the job?' Maggie asked.

'I don't know. He told me to report to Stasi Headquarters first thing. I – I couldn't say no.'

Maggie and Glenn looked uneasy.

Maggie said in a soft voice, 'No. We know you couldn't.' But her eyes reproached her sister for having caught the Stasi officer's attention in the first place.

'It doesn't mean he wants her to be an informer,' Shawn said, and Beth felt a rush of gratitude toward him.

'Really?' she said, smiling hopefully at him.

'Yes. Women wouldn't make very good spies anyway.'

Maggie was indignant. 'Women would be good spies. Why wouldn't a woman be a good spy?'

Shawn rolled his eyes. 'Women can't be deceptive. And they talk too much.'

As Shawn and Maggie's argument intensified Glenn caught Beth's eye and grinned. Beth smiled back. Her brother and sister loved to fight. Shawn loved to pretend that he knew everything that went on in East Berlin, and Maggie liked to tell him that he knew nothing.

'OK, you two, that's enough arguing,' Glenn said after a few minutes.

Two spots of colour burned on Maggie's cheeks. 'We're not arguing. We're _discussing_.'

After dinner Beth washed up the dinner things and took a book to bed. Her bedroom was small, the only furniture a small single bed and an even smaller chest of drawers. She put on a nightgown and tried to relax and read but her stomach was churning. Tomorrow she would be stepping into the unknown. If only she'd kept her head down and minded her own business.

…

Stasi Headquarters were located in a blocky, brown edifice of a building, set with row upon row of blank windows. With shaking hands Beth pushed open the front door and found herself in lobby of cream paint and ash wood. There was a receptionist, and Beth approached.

'Excuse me. I was asked to report for work.'

The woman gave her a blank look. 'By whom?'

'Commandant Blake.'

'Sixth floor.' The woman looked away from Beth and back to her typing.

Beth found the elevator and took it to the sixth floor. More cream paint. More ash wood. The floors were grey linoleum. There were no decorations anywhere except for the Stasi seal, a red flag flying from a rifle with fixed bayonet.

She heard the sound of typing and walked down the corridor toward it. She came into a room with a woman sitting at a typewriter. She wore a white blouse that looked like it might be made of silk, and her long, dark hair was put up into an elegant chignon, and she wore lipstick. Beth couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a woman in lipstick.

The woman's gaze was friendly but Beth noticed the way her eyes travelled over her old rayon shirt and patched grey skirt.

'Can I help you?' the woman asked.

'I was asked to report for work this morning.'

The woman hesitated, and then looked across at the empty desk opposite. 'Frau Adler isn't here, and she's never late ... so I suppose you're a new secretary.'

She was? Beth was relieved. A secretary, that was much better than being a spy.

The woman came toward her with a smile on her face. 'I'm Frau Lori Grimes. You can hang your coat up there, and sit yourself down at that desk.'

'Fraulein Beth Greene. Um, what happened to Frau Adler?'

Lori's smile became brittle. 'Don't you trouble yourself about her. Now, let's take a look at you.' Frau Grimes studied her, and then gave a little laugh. 'Well, you look like you've come straight from the factory. Where did he find you? Here's a pair of earrings you can wear today, and my lipstick which you can borrow,' she said, collecting the items from a drawer in her desk. 'Tomorrow I recommend a skirt suit or dress in blue or green or light brown and twisting that lovely long hair of yours up or setting it in waves. Heels too. The commandant likes us to look our best for him.'

Beth stared at her blankly, but sat down.

'You haven't got heels?' Frau Grimes asked her with a worried frown.

Beth shook her head. No heels, no skirt suit, and she didn't know the first thing about setting or twisting her hair.

'Well, you'll get some. I can tell you where. Now,' she said, glancing at the typewriter in front of Beth. 'How many words per minute?'

Beth had never touched a typewriter. She began to panic – _What am I doing here? This i_ _sn't better than being a spy_ – but kept her face carefully blank. 'I don't rightly know. It's been a while.' She flashed Frau Grimes her sweetest smile.

There was a harsh buzzing sound from Frau Grimes' desk and the woman flinched. Then she walked over to her desk, picked up a notebook and pen and went to a door with a brass plaque that read COMMANDANT PHILLIP BLAKE. The secretary took a moment to pat her hair, smooth her skirt, arrange her face into a smile, and then opened the door and went inside.

Beth bit her lip and sat back. What was she doing here? She wasn't beautiful and sleek like Frau Grimes. She didn't know how to type or do the hundred other things she that a secretary was supposed to do. Was there a hundred? She didn't have the first idea. Commandant Blake was going to take one look at her and send her back to where she belonged.

Beth felt a surge of relief. Thank goodness.

Although … couldn't she talk to him about daddy? No one in her family had Stasi connections, and they'd never even been told why he was in prison or been allowed to visit him. Maybe Commandant Blake would help her if she could perform her duties to his satisfaction.

Beth looked at the typewriter in front of her. It was a shiny olive colour with dark brown keys and the name ERIKA embossed in the top right-hand corner. She wondered who Erika was. Then she looked at the stack of clean paper beside her. Somehow one of those sheets went in there. She glanced at Commandant Blake's door, then at Frau Grimes' desk. There was the faint rumble of a male voice but otherwise all was silent. She crept over to the other desk and examined Frau Grimes' typewriter. A piece of paper had been fed in from the back into the big roller.

All right. Didn't seem too difficult. Beth went back to her desk and sat down.

Ten minutes later she had thrown four crumpled pieces of paper into the wastepaper bin and had a sheet fed into the typewriter at a wonky angle. It was a start. She looked at the keys. They were all jumbled up. How was anyone supposed to find the right one?

Tentatively, with her forefingers, she slowly typed _beth greene_. Then _beth greene is not a secretary_. Then _beth greene what are you do_ –

Then she had to stop because a little bell had rung and she'd run out of space on the line. She was fiddling with the roller when Commandant Blake's door opened and Frau Grimes hurried out. She looked pale, but gave Beth a shaky smile.

'How are you getting along? Shall we have a cup of coffee?'

Beth stared at her. Coffee? Just in the morning like it was nothing? Glenn had once brought them a tin of freeze-dried coffee and they had eked it out over a month, having a cup after dinner with a cigarette and pretending they were French intellectuals.

She followed Frau Grimes down a corridor into a kitchenette, and watched Frau Grimes pour them both a cup from an electric coffee brewer.

'He's in a dark mood today,' she said. 'I think an operation went sour last night.'

An operation? Beth wondered if that was where he was heading when she crossed paths with him.

They perched in a corner against a counter and dug out their cigarettes. Beth's were the East German-made f6 brand, but Frau Grimes surprised her by pulling out a pack of Kents. She couldn't help staring.

'I know,' Frau Grimes said, grimacing. 'It seems a waste to actually smoke them when you can swap two packets for a pair of silk stockings or a chicken, but I just can't bear the taste of those f6s.'

'But how do you even get them?' Beth asked. She tasted the coffee. It was real coffee, from beans. 'The coffee, the cigarettes, the clothes. I've never seen anything like it. Where do they come from?'

Frau Grimes laughed. 'The West, of course. They're all imported. You didn't think the Stasi and the Party members eat and drink the same rot that the workers do, did you?'

Beth felt hollow inside. Yes, she had thought that, because it was what they'd been told: that they were all equal under communism. That they lived in a classless society. It was the decadent capitalists who exploited the people at the bottom for their own gain. 'But how is that fair?' she asked.

Frau Grimes studied her face. 'Where the hell did he find you?' she muttered. 'Look, it's not fair, but you're here now so you might as well enjoy it.' She handed Beth her packet of Kents. 'For you, a welcoming present. And tonight after work we'll go to my flat and see if there's anything in my wardrobe you can borrow while you sort out some decent clothes.'

They finished their imported coffee, the imported Kent cigarettes clutched in one of Beth's hands. She couldn't help but remember what Maggie would be doing right at that moment: sitting in a freezing, gloomy factory on the production line, counting the hours until lunchtime. Inside the Stasi building it was warm enough that you didn't even need a cardigan, and Frau Grimes had stopped for coffee just because she wanted to.

When Frau Grimes saw Beth's typewriter with its wonky paper she laughed and said, 'Not used to this make, are you?' She yanked the page out and read what Beth had typed. Then she froze. Her eyes slowly travelled to Beth.

'You can type, can't you? Take shorthand?'

Beth bit her lip. 'No. I can't. I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing here. He just told me to come here today – I'm a factory girl – I've never even touched a typewriter in my life.'

Frau Grimes closed her eyes for a second. The she opened them, looked at Beth, and took a deep breath. 'All right. It'll be OK.' She chewed her lip, thinking. Then she gave a short laugh. 'You're a clever one. How did you do convince him to give you the job? Flashed those baby blues, I suppose. He's a sucker for a pretty face, that man.'

Beth shook her head. 'I didn't, he just –'

'Well, you're just going to have to get up to speed as fast as you can. There's an evening shorthand and typing class you can go to, and you can fetch his coffee and do his errands, and I'll do my best to keep up with … the rest.' She said this last part with a grimace, as if 'the rest' was quite a bit of work.

She touched Frau Grimes' arm. 'Thank you. You're being so nice to me. I can see I'm going to be a burden to you.'

Frau Grimes patted her hand. 'It's all right. I didn't much like Frau Adler anyway. She wasn't any fun. If we can both please him then things will be better for both of us. Now, let me show you how a typewriter works so you can at least look the part for the rest of the day.'

…

It was seven-thirty pm when she left Frau Grimes' apartment and headed home, carrying a heavy bag of clothes that the woman had given her. They'd left the office at six pm, something that had floored Beth as they had only started working at eight and she was used to twelve-hour days.

'When he goes,' Frau Grimes had said, nodding at the commandant's door, 'we can go.'

When Beth came in the front door Maggie was cooking dinner and Glenn was reading to her from the paper. Both of them stopped what they were doing when they saw the bag she thumped down on the table. Goods being brought into the house was always cause for interest and both of them stared at it.

Beth couldn't help grinning. 'You won't believe what's in here.' As soon as she pulled out the first blouse Maggie squealed, ripped off her apron and plunged into the bag.

'Beth, where did you get these?' Maggie asked, pawing through the skirts and dresses. In awed tones she said, 'Is this a leather handbag?' She held up a neat brown bag with a gold clasp.

'Frau Grimes, the other secretary who works for Commandant Blake. She was so kind to me even though I'm going to be completely useless for weeks, maybe months. We went back to her apartment after work so she could loan me some clothes, but then she said she didn't wear these things and I was going to have to take them in anyway, so I should just have them, and I should give her the first two pairs of silk stockings that Commandant Blake gives to me and then we'll be square.'

Maggie stared at her, open mouthed. 'He's going to give you silk stockings?'

Beth couldn't believe it either. 'Apparently he just does that for his secretaries. Can you imagine! Frau Grimes has told me where I can take lessons and I'm going to start tomorrow night. I don't have to be a spy. Isn't that wonderful? And look what she gave me, just as a present.' Beth placed the Kent cigarettes on the table and then, next to it, a bar of chocolate.

Maggie grabbed them up, staring at them. 'American cigarettes? Swiss chocolate? Where did she even get these?'

Beth grinned. 'She said that she gets them from those special shops and kiosks that the Party members and officials are only allowed to shop at. If you're dressed well then the assistants know that you must work for an important man, or are married to one, and they'll sell you Western goods, too.'

Glenn had been silent this whole time, watching them with the newspaper crumpled in his lap. He frowned, saying, 'Why is she being so nice to you? Don't you think that's suspicious?'

Beth felt her smile fade. She hadn't thought that Frau Grimes was being anything but kind. Was there an ulterior motive to her generosity?

Maggie glanced at her sister. 'Glenn,' she scolded. 'Why would you say such a thing?'

Beth just shrugged, her excitement spoiled. 'Well, she's just nice, I suppose … and, and felt sorry for me or something.' Suddenly the clothes and Western goods she'd been showing off seemed vulgar in their plain little kitchenette, and she wished she hadn't been so enthusiastic over them.

'There are good people out there, Glenn,' Maggie said. 'Generosity can still exist.'

Glenn looked annoyed and dropped his eyes. 'I wonder what Shawn's going to think of all this,' he muttered.

Maggie bit her lip and smiled at Beth, her eyes sparkling once more. 'Oh god, yes, we better put these decadent Western goods away before he gets home and sees them in the hands of the proletariat.' She helped Beth scoop them back into the bag. 'After dinner I'll help you take in some of these clothes so that you have an outfit to wear tomorrow.'

Beth smiled at her sister. 'Thank you, Maggie.'

When Shawn got home and Maggie served dinner Beth saw that Glenn had brought the potatoes he'd said he would get for them. Beth thanked him, but he didn't reply.

…

 **What do you reckon, does Lori have an ulterior motive to be nice to Beth? How do you think the story's going so far?**

 **And if you're hanging out for him, the next chapter will have LOTS of Daryl.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much to everyone who's followed/favourited this story and left a review! It's so encouraging. I'm really enjoying writing this story and I'm so glad you enjoy reading it.**

...

'Well ain't you just a picture!' Frau Grimes exclaimed over Beth's attire as soon as Beth arrived at her desk. Frau Grimes was a size or two larger than Beth but with Maggie's help Beth had taken in a navy blue wool pencil skirt and added darts to a white silk blouse so that it was smaller in the waist. She wore them with her nylons, best brown shoes, which were really nothing special, and the brown leather handbag. This morning Maggie had brushed her long blonde hair and braided it from the front of her head down to her nape and pinned it into a coil. She almost hadn't recognised herself when she looked in the mirror.

'Why don't you take him some coffee?' Frau Grimes said, nodding at Commandant Blake's door. 'He's in a good mood today.'

Beth had learned the previous day that Commandant Blake liked his coffee brought in a silver pot, on a tray, with a bowl of sugar lumps and a tiny jug of cream. When Beth had it all arranged she carried the tray to the commandant's door, knocked, and went in.

Commandant Blake looked up from the letter he'd been reading. His serious face broke into a smile. 'Beth, good morning.' He looked her over appreciatively. 'You look even prettier than the other night. How are you settling in?'

 _I'm terrified and I have no idea what I'm doing._ 'Good morning, Commandant Blake. I'm settling in well, thank you.'

'Glad to hear it. Just put the coffee on the desk here. I'll pour it,' he said, indicating the tray. 'Will you sit and talk to me for a minute?'

She sat in the chair in front of his desk and studied him covertly while he poured himself a cup of coffee. She liked his thick brown hair and blue eyes, and the way his tailored uniform fitted his broad shoulders. He was quite handsome, really. She knew she was supposed to be afraid of the Stasi, but she couldn't feel afraid of him.

He looked up and smiled at her once more, and she felt herself blush a little. It was going to take some getting used to, having a handsome officer smile at her and talk to her so politely.

'Do you know much about the Ministry of State Security, Beth?'

She hesitated. She'd heard all the propaganda about the Stasi, of course, and no one liked to talk openly against them, but she'd have to be blind not to see the looks of fear and dislike on the faces of the people when the Stasi were mentioned. She'd heard tales of people disappearing in the night, being arrested for no reason and tortured, interrogations that would go on for days. It was difficult to know what to believe.

He chuckled. 'I know what people think of us, don't worry. Some of my colleagues rather encourage our bad reputation, but I think it does us a disservice. We're here to protect the citizens of East Germany, not frighten them.'

Beth wanted to ask _From what?_ but didn't have the nerve. Was it all just reputation then, and no substance?

'And now you're an integral part of that,' he went on.

Beth tensed. Was this the part when he asked her to spy for him?

'As one of my secretaries you'll be responsible for the smooth running of this office. Paperwork, typing, filing. It's bureaucracy that keeps a country together. Did you know that?' He went on without waiting for a reply. 'I want you to feel like you can come to me with any concerns you may have. Anything at all. All right, Beth?'

Anything at all? Like, if her typewriter ribbon jammed? But Beth had a feeling he meant more serious things than that, and there was an unusual expression in his eyes. Did he mean if she saw something that concerned her? Was he talking about spying? Or was he just being friendly? 'All right, commandant,' she said.

Frau Grimes glanced at Beth when she came out of the office. 'You were in there a while.'

'He wanted to tell me about the Stasi,' Beth said.

Frau Grimes gave her an amused _Oh that_ , look, and then brought a piece of paper over to her desk. 'We need another two copies of this letter. Do you remember what I showed you about the typewriter yesterday?'

Beth glanced over the letter. It was set out quite plainly without any complicated tables or indenting. 'Yes, I think I can do that.' She smiled up at Frau Grimes.

The intercom on Frau Grimes' desk buzzed. 'Duty calls.' She picked up her notepad and went in to Commandant Blake.

Beth was a few lines into the letter, typing very slowly with her index fingers, when a figure appeared out of the corner of her eye. She looked up and saw a delivery man in grey overalls.

'Stationary room?' the man asked.

'Just down the hall and second on the right,' Beth said, and then started. The man was tall, with straight dark hair hanging into his eyes and down to his collar.

'Thanks,' the man muttered, and it was the same voice. That same, husky voice that had said _Fraulein_ to her when he'd had his hands about her waist and she had hers on his chest.

He hadn't seemed to recognise her, and he pushed his hand trolley down the hall and out of sight. Beth stared after him. Something seemed odd, but why? He could be a delivery man. Why couldn't he be a delivery man?

Beth didn't know why, but she was certain that he was not a delivery man.

Beth stood, hesitated, told herself to sit down and stop being stupid, ignored herself, and followed him down the now-empty corridor. Where was he? She looked into the stationary room, but it was empty. Strange. She moved along to the next door, the filing room, but the light was off. She stepped in and felt for the switch, flipped it, and then a hand shot out and grasped hers. She had a brief glimpse of the man's face as she was yanked into an embrace, one hand clamping over mouth. He had hold of both her wrists in his other hand and locked his arm around her body, pulling her back tightly against his chest.

'Listen.' He spoke quietly into her ear, his stubble rough against her cheek. 'I'm gonna let go of you in just a second and you ain't gonna scream. You're going to go back to your desk, sit down and do your typin'. You ain't gonna go squealing to your commandant.'

 _That is exactly where he is wrong_ , Beth thought, fuming. She was going to go straight to the commandant and this, this … man, whoever he was, was going to be thrown out of the building. She struggled in his arms but she was pinned tight.

'You know why I know you ain't gonna squeal? Because of what you did for Ana.'

She stopped struggling in his arms. _He knew about that?_

'Okay, I'm gonna let go of you now.'

He released her, and she whipped round and glared at him. He looked her over, amused. 'You scrub up nice, factory girl.'

'What are you doing here?' she hissed. 'You're not delivering paper.'

His face darkened. 'Look, I ain't got time for this. I'm sorry that by helping Ana the commandant saw those pretty blue eyes of yours and you wound up here. Shit happens. Now go back to your desk before we both get thrown in prison.'

There were the sound of footsteps in the corridor. Someone was going to pass by the room, so she only had a split second to decide. She didn't like this man but she didn't want to get anyone in trouble, either. Annoyed with herself, wishing she did enjoy watching people get into trouble, Beth gave the man a dark look, opened a filing cabinet and then closed it loudly, and then marched out of the room. Anyone who saw her would think she'd just been doing some filing.

She sat and typed, feeling all the places on her body where he had touched her and trying not to. She didn't look up when twenty minutes later he passed her desk pulling the now-empty trolley, unhurried and lighting a cigarette. She didn't look up when Frau Grimes came out of the commandant's office, either. She could feel her colour was high and didn't trust the expression on her face.

'Ugh, who's been smoking f6s?' Frau Grimes muttered.

…

The typing class that evening lasted an hour and a half, and consisted of pounding out drills on the keys to the rhythm of a metronome that slowly got faster and faster:

 _aaa ;;;_

 _sss lll_

 _ddd kkk_

 _fff jjj_

On and on, over and over until her fingertips felt bruised. The instructor carried a long ruler and if she saw anyone looking at their fingers she would rap them over the knuckles. Beth got a lot of raps.

By the time she got home she was fuzzy-headed and cranky. Her mood wasn't improved any when she came into the kitchen and the man who had been at Stasi Headquarters posing as a delivery man was seated at the kitchen table, one booted foot resting on another chair and his hands plunged deep into the pockets of his black coat. He looked so insolent that she wanted to march over and slap his face. But before she could lose her cool he put an index finger to his lips and mouthed _Shhh_.

Maggie was at the stove and turned around when she heard Beth's footsteps. Glenn was sitting at the other side of the table reading the paper.

The man said, woodenly, 'I think the news is on.' Then he got up, flipped on the wireless and turned it up. The loud drone of the newscaster filled the room. The strange man sauntered close to Beth and said in a low voice, 'Keep your voice down, all right? Now sit.'

Maggie took off her apron and sat down, her face tense. Glenn folded away the paper.

The man sat, and looked up at Beth. He said in that same low voice, 'You gonna join us, factory girl?'

Beth didn't know what any of this meant, and she was furious about being told what to do in her own apartment. Glaring daggers at him, she sat, took the Kent cigarettes out of her handbag that Frau Grimes had given her, and lit one. Then she crossed her long legs in his direction and fixed him with a narrow look that said, _Do I look like a factory girl to you?_

He looked her over, his eyes raking her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. 'Well ain't you taken to your new life real quick.'

Beth turned to Maggie and Glenn. 'What the hell is he doing here?' she said in a loud whisper. 'And where's Shawn? And why are we whispering with the wireless up so loud?'

Maggie's eyebrows went up. 'You two know each other?'

'We've had the pleasure,' he murmured.

'Shawn's got a late shift on the Wall,' Maggie went on. 'And Daryl thinks the apartment might be bugged.'

It was Beth's turn to raise her eyebrows. 'Why would we be bugged?'

'Because most citizens are bugged at some point,' the man called Daryl murmured, 'and you've got a border guard and a Stasi secretary under the same roof. Might be some real interesting conversations going on.'

Yes, like the one they were having now. 'What is he _doing_ here?'

'I asked him,' Glenn said, leaning forward and speaking low. 'I've been thinking about escaping for a while now and a friend of a friend put me in touch with Daryl. We've been talking about it for a few weeks now.'

Beth's eyes shot to Maggie. 'You knew about this?'

Maggie looked uncomfortable. 'Glenn and I had talked about it in general terms. Nothing definite.'

Beth felt strange. Maggie had never mentioned escaping before. She had no idea her sister was so unhappy. The food was bad and the work was hard and monotonous. Their father was in prison. They couldn't leave East Germany legally. They were fed propaganda about work setting them free while the elite took the best cuts of meat and imported anything they liked from the West. It wasn't exactly a shock that Maggie would be unhappy. Beth supposed she was unhappy, too. And their mother was on the other side of the wall. She missed her. But she missed both her parents, and Hershel was here.

'Why didn't you tell me you felt this way? Were you just going to leave one day?'

'Of course not,' Maggie said. 'We'd go together.'

'Shawn too?'

Maggie gave a half shrug. 'Shawn's … different.'

Glenn didn't hedge. 'We can't trust Shawn. He believes too much of the propaganda, and he works for the enemy.'

Beth couldn't believe what she was hearing. Glenn and Maggie had been making plans with this … this … Daryl for weeks, behind her back, and already excluding her brother. And suddenly he was their enemy?

'And what makes you think you can trust me, the Stasi secretary?'

Daryl, who'd been watching them silently, spoke up. 'You helped an enemy of the State steal Stasi files today. Quite a neat little performance, too. That's how it works. You help me for a time, and then I help you get over the wall.'

Beth felt cold. So that's what he'd been doing. He was a traitor, and now she was a traitor's accomplice. She could be shot for this. She should have screamed when she had the chance. She swallowed and said, 'Help you do what, exactly?'

'Keep the escape routes open. Keep tabs on safe-houses, Stasi activities, the safety of the group.'

Beth looked at Maggie. 'And we just leave Shawn behind? What about daddy?'

'Daddy ain't getting out of prison, Beth,' Maggie said softly. 'He ain't even been charged with anything. He's just gone.'

Beth shook her head. She couldn't just leave her brother and father behind. Her home. It wasn't much of a home, it was true, but it was all she'd known. And spying? It just seemed so ... low. 'I don't want to be a spy for the government, and I don't want to be a spy for him.'

'Blake's asked you to spy?' Daryl said sharply.

'Not exactly, but he said something odd this morning about coming to him if I had any problems, but I had a feeling he meant something else.'

Daryl relaxed, and snorted, 'Yeah, he meant something else.'

Beth was indignant. 'What does that mean?'

The man gave her a _You know_ look. 'I don't think he's keeping you round for your typing, Miss Two Fingers.'

Beth blushed. Then she blushed harder remembering how she'd looked at the commandant that morning and thought that he looked handsome. Did Daryl think the commandant just wanted her around so he could sleep with her? 'Don't be disgusting,' she muttered.

Maggie was losing her patience. 'Look, we're not getting anywhere. Beth, I can't do this without you. Please. Are you with us?'

'Maggie, we were just talking about spying two days ago. You saw how frightened I was by the prospect of working for the Stasi. You were all so worried for me. And now you want me to spy for him?' She pointed at Daryl.

Glenn sat back with a sigh. She could see he was losing patience with her but she didn't care. They should have talked to her privately about this, not ambushed her with a government traitor. She glanced at Daryl, wondering about the things he'd done. The escapes never made it onto the news, but people whispered about them. The latest whispers had been about Ana Mueller's boyfriend. In fact, Daryl himself had mentioned Ana that day. A thought occurred to her.

'Did you help Ana's boyfriend escape?' she asked Daryl.

Daryl dropped his gaze. 'Yeah.'

'Then why not Ana too?'

Daryl hesitated, like he knew Beth wasn't going to like his answer. 'He told me not too. Said she was weak, wouldn't be able to keep up or keep her mouth shut.'

Beth remembered Ana's bereft expression as she'd gazed at the Wall the other night. She must have figured out that her boyfriend had escaped to West Berlin without her. How sad for her, knowing she'd been left behind on purpose. 'Did you talk to her to find out if this was true? Or did you just leave her behind not knowing what had happened to the man she thought loved her?'

Daryl leaned forward, angry. 'If there's one weak link then we all die. She couldn't do the work, so she doesn't get to go. That's how this works.'

Beth thought about this. It was cold, but it was a clever arrangement. Daryl needed a network of people to help him smuggle people over the Wall, but as soon as he'd built one up they would leave. If he recruited people for a time and then let them go one by one he could keep an ever-changing network. It would be harder for the Stasi to pin them down, as well.

But it seemed unfair on those who were too nervous or unwilling to perform spy work. They loved their families just as much as the brave ones. Why couldn't someone else do their work for them?

Why couldn't that person be Beth? She turned to him. 'I helped you steal files from Stasi Headquarters today. That's got to be worth quite a bit to you. In exchange, you get Ana out. Deal?'

...

 **What do you think about how Maggie and Glen surprised Beth with the news that they want to escape? Do you think Beth would have been more understanding if she wasn't already annoyed by and confused about Daryl?**


	4. Chapter 4

'Ana goes over the Wall in exchange for a few files?' Daryl asked. 'Don't seem fair on the others I got waiting.'

Beth said nothing. She and Daryl watched each other closely, as if measuring the other up. He seemed like he knew what he was doing, and had the quiet assurance of someone who knew he did it well. She guessed that little escaped that sharp gaze of his. Why was he still in East Berlin? If he could get others out then why not go himself? Unless he liked running rings around the Stasi. The thrill of the hunt. Daryl didn't seem like the sort that could be domesticated.

He also didn't seem like a liar. If he said it was unfair to take Ana over the Wall in exchange for a few files then maybe it was. 'All right. What else do you want for Ana?'

Glenn leaned forward, his pale face agitated. 'Why has this become about Ana? This was supposed to be about us.'

Daryl stood. 'Seems like you need more time to talk about that.' He nodded to Beth. 'Factory girl. Be seein' you.'

Beth didn't know if it was a threat or a promise. He held her gaze for a moment and then strode out of the apartment.

Maggie, Glenn and Beth sat where they were for a few moments. Maggie stood up quickly and flipped the wireless off. Beth could tell from the tightness of her shoulders that she was angry. Glenn looked bereft. She realised that she'd just ruined their hopes for the future.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered. 'But shouldn't we talk –'

'Just don't say anything, Beth,' Maggie said quickly, and she and Glenn left Beth alone in the kitchen.

…

Just after six a.m., when Maggie and Beth were sitting at the table eating and Shawn was on the sofa in the next room blacking his boots, there was a knocking at the front door. Beth and Maggie immediately froze, staring at each other. Beth could tell that both of them were thinking about the clandestine conversation they'd had the night before. She imagined the Stasi on the other side of the door, ready to arrest them. She imagined Commandant Blake himself, his face grave and closed as he dragged the two sisters away.

They heard Shawn answer the door, talk for a moment with whoever it was, and then close it again. No one had stormed the apartment. Beth and Maggie began to breathe again.

Shawn came through to the kitchen carrying a package. 'For you, Beth.'

He put the carton by Beth's elbow, leaving a few smudges on it in black polish, and went back to the lounge.

Beth found a sharp knife and cut through the string and brown paper, and lifted the lid of the box. Inside were layers of tissue paper, and then pairs of silk stockings wrapped in thin card. Beth counted seven packets.

There was also a note, and it read,

 _For the prettiest girl at Stasi Headquarters._

 _Commandant P. Blake._

Beth felt herself blush. She passed the note to Maggie, who was craning her neck to see.

'Seven pairs, Maggie,' she breathed, looking at the delicate, pale peach fabric. 'We've never even owned one before. I owe Frau Grimes two pairs, and here are two for you.' She held them out for her sister but Maggie shook her head. 'Go on,' Beth laughed.

But Maggie only stood and took her plate to the sink, putting it down harder than necessary and stalking out of the room.

…

Beth couldn't remember ever feeling as low as she did when she arrived at Stasi Headquarters that morning. She felt like she was being pushed and pulled in so many different directions. She wasn't blind. East Berlin was not a happy place to live. Many lived almost in poverty, scraping together an existence without actually living. That had been their lives for many years now, even before the way. It hurt her heart to see the city and its people in such a state. This was the capital of Germany, and it felt as if it had been sliced up and left for dead.

Her sister was upset with her, because of the meeting with Daryl the night before, or the silk stockings, or something else. She knew it seemed like she'd missed the point by focusing Ana the night before with Daryl. If Maggie and Glenn wanted to get out of East Berlin they should go. But could Beth go too, knowing she'd have to break the law and work for Daryl in secret, and leave Shawn and Hershel behind? Once she and Maggie and Glenn left it would be forever. They'd never see Shawn and Hershel again.

It was too much to decide in a week, let alone the space of one furtive hour around the kitchen table.

When she got into the office she presented Frau Grimes with her two pairs of stockings. Frau Grimes took them with a look of surprise. 'He sent them to your apartment? No, you should be wearing a pair. He'll notice,' the woman said, trying to give one packet back.

Beth pressed both pairs into her hands. 'It's all right, he sent me seven pairs.'

'Seven pairs?' She gave Beth an amused look. 'He must like you.'

Beth blushed. She remembered Daryl's insinuation of the night before, that Commandant Blake only wanted her around so that he could sleep with her. But the commandant wasn't like that. When he smiled at her it was a genuine smile, and he was never inappropriate with her. Not everyone in the Stasi had to be frightening.

Beth shook her head. 'I think he probably just guessed that I've never owned a pair before.' She spied a fashion magazine on Frau Grimes' desk. It was in German but the pictures were glossy and the models wore clothes like she'd never seen before. 'Oh, how pretty,' Beth exclaimed, looking at the dresses. 'Can you buy things like these here?'

'These? God no. This magazine is from West Germany. I take the pictures to a dressmaker I know and get her to copy the designs for me. She gets fabric straight from Italy. A lot of Party and Stasi wives and girlfriends go to her.'

Beth assumed from her name that Frau Grimes had been married, but there had been no sign of a man living in her flat when she'd been at the woman's house and no ring on her finger.

'There's a birthday celebration for a senior Party member in a few days' time and my boyfriend Shane is taking me. He's in the Party.' Frau Grimes tapped a picture of an off-the-shoulder chiffon gown with a long, narrow skirt. 'My dressmaker is copying this for me to wear.'

Beth stroked the glossy paper, imagining she could feel the chiffon beneath her fingers. How much would such a dress cost? How many families could have proper food on the table for that amount of money?

Commandant Blake came out of his office and they both jumped guiltily at being caught looking at a magazine. Frau Grimes recovered first. 'Good morning, commandant. How are you today?'

He greeted her politely while Beth went round to her desk and sat behind her typewriter. Beth looked at him surreptitiously, admiring the fit of his uniform over his broad back.

The commandant spied the magazine open on her desk. 'Frau Grimes, will you be attending Comrade Braun's birthday party with Comrade Walsh?'

Frau Grimes smiled prettily up at him. 'Why, yes. I hope to see you there, commandant.'

He turned to Beth with a smile. 'Indeed you will. And you, Fraulein Greene?'

She noticed how he called her Beth in private but the more formal Fraulein Greene in company. 'Oh, no,' she said with a light laugh. 'I have never even met Comrade Braun.'

'That doesn't matter, as long as you have a partner with an invitation.' he paused, studying her face. 'Perhaps you would like to accompany me?'

His invitation was so unexpected that Beth's mouth feel open. She'd assumed that the commandant was married, or at least was seeing someone. Over the commandant's shoulder she saw Frau Grimes nod her head urgently, as if Beth had better say yes if she knew what was good for her. Beth found herself stammering out an assent.

'Good.' He straightened, smiling at her. 'Good. Frau Grimes, you know the good dressmakers, don't you?'

'The best,' she affirmed.

'Then please take Fraulein Greene to one you think most suitable for evening wear, and charge what she will need to my account. You know the sort of thing I like.'

Beth opened her mouth to protest, that she couldn't possibly accept, but he was already affixing his cap to his head and saying, 'I shall be out for the rest of the day.' He strode out of the office.

She felt sick and terrified. A senior Party official's birthday. These weren't the sort of people she was used to.

Frau Grimes stood, brandishing the magazine. There was an excited expression on her face. 'Leave that,' she said, indicating the sheet of paper Beth was reaching for to feed into her typewriter. 'We have more important things to do.'

…

'They're here.'

Beth felt her stomach clench with nerves. She was in Frau Grimes' apartment, standing in the middle of the room, going to pieces. Her hair was hanging in loose, golden curls and her face was fully made up for the first time in her life. Frau Grimes had done it, painting on the winged eyeliner and pale pink lipstick with an expert hand.

Frau Grimes twitched the curtain back into place and turned round. She looked beautiful in the grey chiffon gown and perfectly at ease. 'We'll wait five minutes before going down,' she said, adjusting her gloves.

'Isn't that rude?' Beth asked, tugging at the neckline of her gown. She felt exposed. It was a strapless dress in beaded cream chiffon that nipped in at the waist and fell to the floor. She wore with it long white satin gloves that went up over her elbows and Italian leather heels. The bill had been enormous. She was sure Commandant Blake was going to be furious, but Frau Grimes and the dressmaker had talked over her till she'd given in.

She did like the dress, but she hadn't got much say in that, either. Frau Grimes had done most of the talking and deciding, saying that she knew the commandant's tastes. Beth remembered what he'd said to Frau Grimes: _You know the sort of thing I like._ What about what she liked?

'No, it's what they will expect. Now stop worrying at that dress. You look beautiful.'

A few minutes later they went downstairs, each of them with a fur-lined wrapper over their shoulders to keep off the chill. Commandant Blake and Comrade Walsh were waiting by a large black car, the commandant in his dress uniform, and the tall, dark-haired Comrade Walsh in a tuxedo.

Beth felt herself blush as she walked toward the commandant, ducking her head but not before she saw his smile and the look of warm admiration in his eyes.

'Nervous?' he murmured to her as she took the arm he offered.

She nodded. More nervous than she'd been in her life.

'You needn't be. Everyone there is going to be less interesting and far less beautiful than you.' He winked at her, and she felt herself relax a little. The commandant was friendly, just as he always had been. She couldn't help compare him with Comrade Walsh. The man was good-looking and clearly enamoured of Frau Grimes, whispering in her ear and making her laugh. But Beth thought that her date was superior: striking and poised, as well has handsome. Comrade Walsh seemed just a little too boyish.

The black car took them to a restaurant in a part of town that Beth had never been to before. It was an older building that had survived the war, which made it a rarity in itself. Inside it was all plush red velvet and brass fittings that had been polished to a high shine. Beth had never seen so many fine, well-dressed people all together in one room before. It was like being in another country. The longer she stared the more uncomfortable she felt. Surely all this decadence went against exactly what the Communist Party believed in, and yet here were the echelons of the Party itself.

'Will you be all right here for a moment?' the commandant asked her, taking her over to a table draped with white linen. 'I need to speak to someone quite tedious. I won't be long.'

Beth sat at one of the tables that lined the walls, happy to have a quiet moment to herself. The floor had been cleared and people were milling about. She watched the waiters in their dark suits glide about the room with trays of drinks; the candlelight glimmering on the ladies' jewels; the military uniforms and tuxedos. Less than a week ago she'd been a factory girl. She was, really, still a factory girl, as Daryl liked to remind her. An expensive dress didn't change where she'd come from.

'Champagne, fraulein?' A waiter was at her elbow with two saucers of champagne on a silver tray.

She reached for one and her eyes flicked to the waiter's face as she thanked him, and she froze. Daryl's sharp eyes stared down at her, his dark hair framing his face.

'Goddamn it, factory girl,' he growled when she didn't move, 'take the champagne.'

Beth remembered herself and took the glass in her gloved fingers. She looked back at the crowd, lifting the glass to her lips as she said, 'What are you doing here?'

'Waitin' on our illustrious leaders.' His eyes were sharp as he said, 'What are you doin' here? Never mind. As you're here you can help me help Ana.'

Beth's heart sank. Here? What was she supposed to do?

He looked at the other glass on his tray. 'Take it. Give it to the commandant.'

She reached for it slowly. 'Why?'

'I put a cyanide capsule in it.'

Beth stared at him, aghast. It was too much. She couldn't be part of the murder of a Stasi officer. And not Commandant Blake. He'd been nothing but kind to her.

Daryl stared at her a moment longer, glint in his eye. 'Gotcha.' Then he was moving on, refilling glassing, smiling politely at the guests. Beth watched him go, fuming. How could he joke about such things? It was hard to believe that this smooth, deferential waiter was the same man who'd sat in her kitchen, grimy and insolent, plotting with them against the government. He'd appeared in disguise at her office and now at this party. Was there nowhere he couldn't infiltrate?

Beth's face was still burning with annoyance when the commandant came back to her, and with him Comrade Walsh and Frau Grimes. Beth quickly arranged her face into a smile, and was relieved when Frau Grimes sat beside her and the two men sat on the other side and began talking to one another.

'Are you enjoying yourself?'

'Frau Grimes, I feel so out of place,' Beth confessed.

'Well you don't look out of place,' the woman said. 'And please, call me Lori. How do you like your champagne?'

It was very different to anything Beth had had before. Dry and fizzy, but with a sweet after taste. She listened to Lori chatter about the people in the room, who they were and what they did, while her eyes followed Daryl. She knew she shouldn't watch him. It could be dangerous for both of them if anyone noticed she was paying him too much attention. But her eyes kept returning to him. He moved like a shadow through the crowd, alert and watchful. She remembered how quickly he'd disappeared into the gloom the night she'd first seen him.

'Frau Grimes.'

Beth turned to see a man standing before her and Lori. He was tall and tuxedoed with piercing blue eyes and a full mouth. His sculpted cheekbones and broad shoulders made him handsome, and there was something trustworthy in those eyes. Something pained, as well, as he looked at Lori.

'Comrade Grimes,' Lori said, looking disconcerted. 'May I present Fraulein Greene? She works with me at the headquarters.'

Comrade Grimes gave Beth a warm smile before turning back to … his wife? Or ex-wife. Beth was aware without needing to look that the two men they had come with had stopped talking.

The man gave Lori a look like he wished to say more, but she wouldn't meet his eyes, and he moved on.

'My ex-husband,' Lori said in a low voice. 'We separated six months ago. Not long before the Wall went up, actually. Though at the time I was too distraught to notice much of what was happening around me.'

'I'm sorry,' Beth said, because Lori seemed to be genuinely agitated. She watched Comrade Grimes walk away from them. He seemed to be at the party alone.

'Thank you. It was a difficult break-up. One of those that's nobody's fault, really. I lost the baby I was carrying, and …' She made a hopeless gesture. 'Nothing seemed right after that.'

Beth took her hand, comforting the woman, and was about to speak when she saw Daryl approach Comrade Grimes, proffering a tray of champagne. Grimes took a glass, but dropped something small and folded onto the tray as he did. Then he turned away as Daryl palmed whatever it was and continued his circuit round the room.

Daryl _was_ up to something.

'Handsome, isn't he,' Lori said with a small, sad smile, mistaking the reason for Beth's staring at her ex-husband. 'A very good man, too.'

Beth struggled for something to say to cover her shock. 'Comrade Walsh seems nice.'

'Oh, he's a wonderful man. He was there for me in my darkest hours. I don't know what I would have done without him.'

Dancing began, but Beth shook her head and stayed firmly in her seat whenever Commandant Blake leaned across and suggested they join in. She had never danced properly in her life.

He laughed at her third, terrified refusal. 'Then take a walk with me in the fresh air.'

That Beth thought she could do, and when the commandant had fetched her wrap they walked to the back of the room, through a door and out onto a terrace. There were braziers burning and several other couples standing in the moonlight. It was a clear, crisp night, and they walked to the stone balustrades and looked out onto East Berlin. Lights glimmered in the windows of the houses. Warm, yellow light that made Beth think of families and comfort and home. Beyond that, though, was the hard white light of the floodlights that lit the Wall. She looked away from the concrete barrier, disconcerted.

'Are you having a good time?' Blake asked.

'It is lovely, though I do find it a little overwhelming. I had no idea there were parties like this in East Berlin.'

He smiled. 'Every now and then.'

She glanced again at the Wall. Was it dangerous even to mention it? Despite who he was, despite his uniform, Beth felt she could trust Commandant Blake. 'Do you remember the morning the Wall went up?' she asked in a soft voice. It hadn't been a wall right away, of course. One evening in August, just a few months hence, East German troops had started massing on the border, and then when Beth had woken the next morning there was barbed wire three feet high and over a hundred miles long cutting a swathe through the city, splitting it in half from north to south. Some people had taken their chance then, waiting for a moment when the guards weren't looking and then leaping over the wire to the West. Even some of the guards fled that way.

His face was unreadable in the moonlight. 'Of course. I think everyone in East Berlin remembers that.'

Beth went on, hesitatingly, ready to bite her tongue if she saw reproach on the commandant's face. 'I ... I couldn't help but be frightened when I saw it. It felt like we were being punished all over again for what Hitler did. We lost the war and the Soviets have helped us rebuild and given us jobs ... but still it feels so hard on the people of East Berlin to trap us like this.'

His eyes were soft, and Beth felt relieved. She'd been right to trust him.

'Your love for your people is admirable, Beth,' he said.

She gave him a tentative smile. 'I wasn't sure if I should say anything, but I thought you would understand. I love my city and the people here.'

'As do I. But promise me something, Beth. You can talk to me about anything. Anything at all, even if it feels dangerous. But please take care to talk to only me. There are people who would not like to hear a young woman talk so. I'm thinking of your safety.'

Beth nodded. 'Thank you, commandant.' She was touched by his concern. It occurred to her that he might be able to find out what happened to her father. He might even be able to arrange a visit for her and her siblings, and find out what the charge against Hershel was. Daryl couldn't do that. Daryl could get into parties and pose as delivery men, but he didn't have the power that the commandant had.

He touched her cheek and she found herself caught by in warm blue gaze. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She'd never been kissed by anyone before, and as naïve as she was she knew that was what he intended as his hand slid to the small of her back. She let herself be drawn toward him, liking the warmth of his hand and the spicy male scent of him. He dropped his head and his lips touched hers. It was a gentle kiss, slow and expert, and Beth could feel her body respond to him.

Her eyes drifted closed – and then there was an almighty crash, and the commandant leapt away from her and let out a yelp. There was a waiter standing at his shoulder and a tray of smashed champagne glasses at his feet.

'You idiot, you've dropped them all down my leg.' He turned back to Beth, reining in his anger. 'Excuse me. I'll be back in a moment.'

'I'll escort the lady to her table,' the waiter called after him.

Daryl. She might have guessed. She opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of his interruption but he rounded on her with such a look of fury in his eyes that the words froze in her throat.

'What the hell d'you think you're playin' at?' he snarled down at her.

...

 **Geez, Daryl is pissed, right? Think he might be sub-consciously ... jealous? :)**

 **So, confession: when The Governor is being charming and not a psychopathic power-hungry megalomanic I find him to be a total freaking lady-killer. Andrea in Woodbury so would have been me. I reeeeeeally enjoyed writing the kiss in today's chapter. What did you think of it?**

 **I posted a photo of The Governor to Facebook last week saying he was my favourite love-to-hate-but-also-secretly-love villain, and all my friends told me that I was insane, The Governor is evil, and hellooooo Daryl is obviously the man-candy on TWD. MY DEARS. OBVIOUSLY it's all about Daryl and my love for him burns eternal. But frankly, I think The Governor is hot.** **Also total fangirl moment - I just booked tickets to see David Morrissey (who plays The Governor) in a play this December called The Hangman. He's going to be amazing.**

 **What's your opinion - is The Governor totally climbable, or can you not look past his, um, lapses in morality? Or is he just not your type?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you all for the comments and reviews, especially about my question about the hotness of The Governor! I loved the range of answers, from (to paraphrase) 'BRING HIM TO ME NAKED BUT FOR THE EYEPATCH' to 'Ew ew ew not even in a hazmat suit'.**

 **...**

Daryl followed Beth and Blake out onto the terrace. He didn't know why – he'd got what he'd come for from Grimes and he should have already left. But he found he couldn't leave while Beth was with that man. She looked so slight and vulnerable in that gauzy dress showing all that white skin. He could tell she was uncomfortable. Was it because she wasn't used to parties, or was she worried about what that man was gonna to do to her?

Daryl could see in Blake's eyes exactly what he wanted to do to Beth every time the commandant looked at her, which was often, though Beth didn't seem to notice it as she talked to Grimes' ex-wife. Poisonous bitch. What a trifecta of shittiness Beth was sitting among and she didn't even realise it. Walsh weren't no better than Grimes or Blake.

He followed Blake and Beth when they went out back to the terrace. Daryl watched as Blake raised his hand to Beth's cheek. Stasi scum had no right to touch her. His anger doubled as he realised Beth wasn't pulling away. She was looking into his eyes and was just gonna let herself get kissed. What the hell?

Daryl started toward them. He brushed past Blake, purposefully too close, and dropped a tray of drinks down his leg. Blake leapt like a scalded cat and let go of her.

As soon as they were alone he rounded on Beth. 'What the hell d'you think you're playin' at? Offerin' yourself to a man like him.'

He could see even in the moonlight that she'd flushed crimson. Damn right she should be embarrassed. Stupid factory girl. She couldn't handle a man like Blake.

'Daryl,' she hissed under her breath. 'I wasn't offering anything. It was just a kiss.'

He leaned in close. 'That man'll eat you alive, little girl.' He wanted to say more, much more, but he wasn't going to blow his cover and face the firing squad just for the satisfaction of bawling her out. 'Inside. Git.'

Beth went, but he could see how mortified she was from the tightness of her shoulders. His anger dimmed a little. She was so young. Perhaps she hadn't known what she was getting into, going out onto the terrace. Maybe she'd never even been kissed before. There had been a tentativeness about her as Blake'd drawn her into his arms.

God, that was even fuckin' worse. Her first kiss, and it was that scumbag who had given it her. Daryl's chest felt tight and he didn't want to think about it any more. He watched Beth get safely back to the table and sit down with Lori, and then he got the hell out of there.

…

'Hey, factory girl.'

It was the first heavy snow of the winter and Beth was crunching her way home from Stasi Headquarters. They pavements had been shovelled clear that morning but were already covered again in two inches of snow. Her stockinged legs were freezing and the tips of her ears ached. She needed a better coat and some scarves and hats. Would it be wrong to sell her chiffon dress to buy winter clothes even though she hadn't paid for it herself?

She peered through the darkness in the direction of the voice, already knowing she'd see Daryl in the shadows. There he was, leaning against a wall, dressed in black with his hair in his eyes, as usual. Her face didn't change and she kept walking. She hadn't seen Daryl since he'd left her at the party two nights previously but'd had plenty of opportunity to think about the way he'd humiliated her.

Daryl peeled himself away from a wall and fell into step beside her. He walked like a hunter, body supple, eyes watchful. 'Got a job for you.'

'Not interested,' she replied.

'Wasn't asking. Need you to watch a safe-house with me. Need two on the shift. Ain't nobody else to ask.'

'I don't want to be a spy.'

'It's watching a goddamn house, not stealing the plans for the H-bomb.'

They walked on in silence for a while. Then he said, gruff but gentle, 'It's for Ana. Need this house to get her out. You don't need to do anything else for her.'

She turned to him in surprise. 'Really? But you said that wasn't fair on the others.'

He lifted his shoulders and let them drop, watching the flakes of snow fall down around them. 'I say a lot of shit. Others can take it up with me if they like.'

Beth's face hardened, remembering the party. Yes, he did say a lot of shit. 'How long do I have to watch for?'

'Till two a.m. Next shift starts then.'

Beth sighed. She was going to be so tired the next morning. Maybe she'd sleep in till seven-thirty instead of getting up at six to be with Maggie. She didn't have to be at the office till eight-thirty but had kept her old routine so that Maggie ... well, she didn't really know what difference it made to Maggie. A show of solidarity, maybe. Didn't seem to help things between them. They barely spoke lately.

Maybe if Maggie knew she was working with Daryl things would improve between them. 'Fine,' she sighed.

He took her a few blocks past her apartment building and made her wait in a darkened doorway. 'Count to a hundred and then come to flat 3E in that building. Door'll be unlocked.' He pointed to a newish block made of brown brick.

'Why can't I just come with you?'

But he was gone without answering her. She counted to a hundred under her breath, feeling silly like he'd just asked her to play a game of hide and seek.

'Here I come, ready or not,' she muttered when she reached a hundred. She made her way up to the flat and pushed the door open. It was dark inside, and her light footsteps echoed through the empty rooms.

A figure called to her the darkness. Daryl, sitting by a window. 'Here. Don't walk too heavily, and don't speak above a whisper.'

Her eyes slowly adjusted and she looked around her. It was an ordinary flat but it seemed no one had lived there for a while. There were two wooden chairs by the window covered in a venetian blind. On the floor by one wall was a spirit stove. And that was it.

She sat down in one of the chairs next to Daryl. 'What are we watching for?'

He nodded to the other side of the street at a building on the ground floor. It looked like an old bakery. The windows had been boarded up.

'What's that?'

'A safe house.'

'Another safe house? Why do you needed two safe houses on one street?'

He gave her an irritated look. 'Shut your smart mouth and just watch it.'

Beth rolled her eyes. Touchy much?

It had just gone six p.m. by her reckoning, so it was going to be a long evening. She dug her Kent cigarettes out of her handbag. 'Want one?' she said, offering the packet. He ignored her.

She lit a cigarette and chewed a nail. She was sure the bakery wasn't a safe house. So what was it? Why did Daryl need this particular building to get Ana out? It was close to the Wall, but there were lots of places close to the Wall, a lot of them boarded up.

Beth couldn't guess and Daryl wasn't going to tell her. They sat in silence for a long time. Beth became uncomfortable in her heavy coat, but she was cold too. Taking it off she spread it over her front like a blanket.

Daryl didn't move his eyes from the window. Every time somebody walked down the street he stiffened and watched them like a hawk. Several hours passed that way, and then she began to shiver.

Daryl glanced at her. 'Want some coffee?'

'Oh, yes please,' she said, almost in a whimper.

Beth stayed by the window while he went to the spirit stove in the corner. A few minutes later he came back with two tin mugs of sweet, black freeze-dried coffee. She wrapped her frozen fingers round the warmth and breathed in the steam.

Daryl dug a flask out of his pocket, unscrewed the lid and poured a slug of amber fluid into her mug. 'So you can feel those toes o' yours again.' He put the flask back without adding any to his mug.

'None for you?' she asked, sipping the coffee. He'd laced it with brandy. As she felt the warmth spread through her she thought she'd never been so grateful for a cup of coffee in her life.

'Nah. Need one of us with all their wits.'

'Why do you even need two people to do this? Seems like you've got it covered by yourself.'

'Always need two. I need to know for sure that no one goes in or out of that building. What happens when I go make a cup of coffee or take a piss?'

It seemed unreasonably scrupulous to her, but she said nothing. When she finished her coffee she said, 'Have you got anything to eat?'

'That all depends. How do you feel about squirrel?'

Beth stared at him. Then she shook her head. 'You're kidding. I know you're kidding.'

'Ain't kidding. Need meat. Ain't got time to stand in queues.' He pulled a paper packet out of his coat pocket and tossed it to her.

She held the package in her hands like it was a bomb about to go off. There was something stiff and heavy inside. Not a squirrel, please. She liked squirrels, with their tufted ears and fluffy red tails. The same squirrel had been coming up to her window for years and ate out of her hand. She'd admired its wobbly, timid babies every year before they left to find trees of their own to live in.

'Pick 'em off from my bedroom window with an air-gun. Good eatin'.' When she didn't move he glanced at her. 'Well go on, factory girl, it ain't gonna bite you.'

She passed the packet back to him. 'Thanks. I'll wait till I get home. I suppose you think that makes me prissy or something.'

'Not at all, factory girl.' He was silent a long moment and then said, 'That man can't help you with anything. Or if he can, he'll want something from you, and it'll be a dear fuckin' price to pay.'

Beth was confused for a moment, and then she realised he was talking about Commandant Blake. 'You don't know him, Daryl.'

'I know the Stasi. You don't get something for nothin'.'

She gave a short laugh. 'Hark who's talking. It's not like you're taking Ana across the Wall out of the goodness of your heart.'

'I want a bit of your time. The Stasi want your fuckin' soul.'

Beth gave an imperceptible shake of her head. It wasn't worth getting into an argument with Daryl about this. When he looked at the commandant all he saw was the uniform.

Daryl shook his head. 'I must be fuckin' crazy, bringin' you here. You're loyal to him.'

'I'm loyal to no one,' Beth protested. 'I haven't figured any of this out. The Wall, this war that's been going on for years without anything actually happening, the propaganda about the way we live and how grateful we should be to communism. I'm judging each person as I get to know them and I'm not about to pigeon-hole anyone, him or you. I don't think Commandant Blake is evil and I don't think you're a traitor. All right?'

She said all this in an angry whisper. It just wasn't satisfying giving someone a piece of your mind like that. She wished she could holler it at him.

He was silent for several long minutes. 'You tryna figure it out for yourself?' he asked.

'Who wouldn't? It's confusing as hell.'

'Who? Almost everyone. You not noticed? People either want to keep their head down, snitch, or leave.'

'You haven't done any of that.'

'No, I ain't.'

'You could leave,' she pointed out. But he wasn't listening. Suddenly he was standing, peering through the blinds.

'Holy shit.'

Beth sat forward. A man had appeared from inside the bakery. He was about Daryl's height or a little taller, with close cropped hair and a face with hard, mean lines. He closed the door and looked up and down the street as if uncertain about the direction to go. Daryl was transfixed by the sight of him, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

'Do you know that man?'

'Yeah. S'my brother.'

...

What the hell was Merle doing coming through his tunnel that he'd dug with his bare goddamn hands? It was what Daryl had feared: all his hard work and that of the two men who'd helped him was now for nothing. The secret had been compromised. And by the last person he ever expected to see again. How the hell had Merle found out about it?

He hadn't seen Merle in two years. They'd had a big goddamn argument and Daryl had told Merle that he had to choose: stop exploiting, stop manipulating, stop breaking the law, or get the hell out of his life. For good. Merle had chosen to walk away.

'Is this what we've been waiting for?' Beth finally asked.

She'd been silent a long time, letting him process what he'd seen. The street outside was silent now. Merle had disappeared ten minutes earlier, heading north-east. Daryl had almost gone after him but he'd learned that the first hot-headed response to a situation wasn't always the best. Now he was glad he'd stayed put. He knew Merle knew about the tunnel, but Merle didn't necessarily know that Daryl knew Merle knew. It was a tiny advantage that he didn't want to give up.

Daryl sighed. 'Somethin' like it.' There was a wristwatch on the windowsill. One-twenty a.m. The next two watchers would arrive shortly. 'You go. I can finish up here.'

She got up, rubbing her eyes like she was sleepy, but then frowned down at him. 'Hey. You don't want me to see who's coming next, do you? That's why you made me count to a hundred before coming in. So that whoever was in here could leave. You don't trust me.'

'Don't take it personal,' he muttered.

'How am I meant to take it? I mean, I get it, but of course it's personal.'

He shook his head. 'I don't trust anyone at first, and nobody in the groups knows what the rest get up to, or even who they are. If they take you in and start burnin' you with electrical wires we'll all live a lot longer the less you can spill.'

Beth was silent a moment, like she was thinking. Then she shuddered and said, 'Night.'

He made a non-committal noise, not looking away from the window, and Beth left.

Daryl didn't trust the girl yet, but as naïve as she seemed there was courage and quick-thinking there, and he liked the way she took the trouble to really think about the world around her. She was stubbornly committed to making up her own mind about people. He got that. He was the same. Trouble was, she also had never been properly screwed over by anyone, and that made her too trusting.

It was one of the hardest parts of his activities, knowing who to confide in and who was a liability. He had good instincts, and his instincts were telling him that Beth had potential. And, goddamn, a Stasi secretary working for him, it was too fuckin' good a chance to miss.

He just hoped his instincts weren't about to bite him in the ass.

...

 **Merle! Merle has appeared. I really enjoyed writing Merle in _On the Inside_ , and he's going to be a bit more complex and visible in this story.**

 **So, Daryl's taking a risk on Beth by asking her to help him and telling her (and Maggie and Glenn) some of the details about his activities. He knows that she defended Ana in front of the Stasi at her own risk, and she helped him steal files. Plus she's trying to figure things out for herself and not be blindly led (with mixed results so far.) Do you think she's showing some potential to be valuable, or is Daryl crazy to think that she can be trusted?**


	6. Chapter 6

**There is a sexual situation in this chapter. I might have to think about bumping the rating up ...**

…

An hour later, feeling grainy-eyed with sleepiness and chilled to the core, Daryl arrived back at his apartment. It wasn't much; a single large room on the top floor of an old turn-of-the-century building. But he liked the high ceilings, the window he could shoot squirrels from, and the two exits in particular.

He'd lived there for several years, so it almost wasn't a surprise to find Merle sitting on the floor outside his door.

'Hey, baby brother. Long time no see.' Merle grinned up at him like it was nothing. Like he'd just popped by on a slow Sunday afternoon.

Daryl dug his key out of his pocket and unlocked his front door. Merle stood. His coat was ragged and Daryl could see a lot of grimy layers underneath it. Either things weren't going too well for Merle in the West or he'd dressed down in order to fit in.

The door was open, but neither brother made a move to go inside. Merle was still smiling, but uncertain. Daryl kept his face carefully blank.

'Where you been tonight, baby brother?' Merle asked. 'Got a woman?'

'If I got a woman you think I'd drag myself outta her bed on a fuckin' cold night like this? Get the fuck inside.'

He followed Merle into the room, watching him looking around, taking everything in. _Nosy sonuvabitch._ He wanted to tell him to get lost, that any closeness they had was long gone, but he needed to find out how Merle had known about the tunnel.

'What are you doin' here, Merle? Thought we had a deal. You get West Berlin and I get East. We even got a nice fence these days to remind us whose bit is whose.' Daryl took off his coat and kicked off his boots, and flung himself down on the mattress on the bare boards. While he watched Merle examine his window, his chair, and the junk on top of his chest of drawers he took the brandy out of his pocket and drank a slug.

'Missed you, Darylina.'

Goddamn, he hated that nickname. He'd been 'Darylina' ever since he'd told Merle he was done doing illegal shit. He didn't even know what calling him by a girl's name was supposed to mean. 'Real' men were all crims?

'I ain't missed you.'

Merle turned to him with an expansive smile. 'But I've changed my ways, baby brother. Problem is, I ain't got much clue about how to make a livin' on my side of the Wall. People don't want to hire a guy like me in the West. Thought I'd come back here where I'm guaranteed one.'

Daryl watched him narrowly. It was possible, he supposed. Merle never was one for hard work. Rather than clean up his image and learn some new skills it probably did seem easier to come back to East Germany where everyone was given a job and a basic wage.

'You're ain't a citizen anymore. You ain't got papers, nothin'. They ain't just gonna look over that.'

Merle shrugged. 'I'll claim asylum.'

Daryl shook his head. 'Ain't nobody fuckin' escapes _into_ East Berlin these days. How'd you get in, anyway?'

Merle gave Daryl a knowing look. 'Wouldn't you like to know.'

…

'These are to go back into their respective files, and I need two copies of this on my desk by the end of the day.'

Beth took the stack of documents and the letter to copy from Commandant Blake. She'd been avoiding his eyes while she'd been in his office, feeling her face burning beneath his gaze. It was the memory of that kiss. The party was four days ago but she'd barely seen him since then. Yesterday she'd been too tired to think about him after her late night sitting up with Daryl, and then she'd had to go to her typing class. But today her tumultuous thoughts were back with a vengeance.

'Yes. Of course,' she said, and dared a glance at his face.

He broke into a smile. 'Why don't you sit down for a moment?'

She clutched the papers to her chest like they were a shield, her eyes wide as she looked at him. Then she lowered herself into the chair in front of his desk, her heart pounding. It wasn't just that he'd kissed her. It was the fact that she was getting close to two men who were enemies, and she was caught in the middle, not sure what to believe.

'I wanted to thank you for coming to the party with me the other night. They're not always the most interesting affairs, but having you with me made it quite lovely.'

She felt herself blush and looked down. 'You don't need to thank me. I – I enjoyed it very much.' That was a little bit of a fib. She hadn't really enjoyed the party, but she liked that he'd liked taking her.

'I think of you as my friend, Beth, and in my position I'm always looking to help my friends. It's one of the things that gives me great pleasure. Is there anything I can do for you, or your family?'

It was such a vague question that Beth didn't quite know what to make of it. Do for her? Did he mean materially? Legally? Now, there was a thought. Her father. 'Could you, perhaps – and I don't know whether this is the sort of thing you mean, but I would very much like –' She bit her lip. 'It's about my father,' she finished.

Commandant Blake nodded, his expression grave but sympathetic. 'Your father, of course. I understand he's in prison.'

She nodded. 'We don't know what he's been charged with and why, or how long he'll be in prison. My brother and sister and I would so much like to visit him, if we can.'

'That is a very distressing state of affairs. I can look into the charges, if you like, and try and arrange a visit?'

Beth's heart swelled. 'Would you? Really? We'd be so grateful.'

He smiled at her. 'It would be my pleasure.'

…

The commandant left the office in the late afternoon, bidding goodnight to both her and Frau Grimes. The two women worked in companionable silence for the rest of the afternoon. Beth was the first to leave and bid Frau Grimes goodbye.

She left the office and had been walking for ten minutes before she realised that she'd left the copies of the letter on her desk, not on the commandant's like she'd promised. After hesitating a moment, she turned round and headed back. They might be important, and she didn't want to knowingly leave a task undone.

The sixth floor was deserted when she got out of the elevator and she saw that the cover was over Frau Grimes's typewriter, so she must have gone home too. Beth took the copies of the letter off her desk and opened the commandant's door and went inside.

And stopped dead. It wasn't empty like she'd expected. Commandant Blake was there, and so was Frau Grimes. He had her pushed down over his desk, face first with her skirt rucked up around her hips. There was a look on his face unlike any she'd ever seen before, a sort of angry grimace, and he was flushed red. Frau Grimes looked resigned as he thrust into her, her elbows resting on the desktop.

Beth made a small sound, and they both looked up, startled. The letter dropped from her fingers, and she turned and fled.

She didn't slow down until she was outside again and she'd left the office far behind her. When she looked around she saw that she was halfway home already and her coat was unbuttoned. She did the buttons up with shaking hands.

'Wait up, factory girl. Been tryna catch up with you for three blocks.'

Beth turned and saw Daryl fall into step beside her.

'Need you to watch with me again,' he said. 'Not till late this time. Just a couple of hours.'

Beth took a deep breath. Her heart was beating fast after her panicked flight. Did she want to spend hours in a cold flat with Daryl? Not really. She felt like she wanted to go home and cry. But she couldn't think of a good excuse, and wasn't ready to face Maggie, so she nodded off they went.

…

'You okay, Beth?'

She looked up at the sound of Daryl's voice. He was frowning at her like he was worried, and he hadn't called her factory girl.

'I'm fine.'

He grunted and turned back to the window. 'Sure don't seem fine.'

She wasn't fine. She felt dirty and unsettled, and didn't understand what she'd seen. It was the commandant and Frau Grimes having sex, that she knew, but why were they doing it like that, so brutally, and what about her boyfriend Comrade Walsh?

'Beth?'

'Sorry?'

'I said, would you like some coffee. What's got into you?' He sat forward, looking at her closely. 'You upset about somethin'?'

She shook her head. 'No, not really.'

'Yeah, you are,' he muttered. 'I'm gonna make us some coffee. Keep an eye on the bakery, okay?'

Beth looked out onto the street, trying to concentrate on the people that were walking by. Her mind kept taking her back to the scene in the office, though, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd done something shameful, even though all she'd done was walk into a room.

Daryl handed her a mug and sat down again, sipping his. He was silent a long time, just watching her. She could see him out of the corner of her eye as she watched the street.

'What's rattled you?' he said at last. 'Blake?' When she didn't answer he said, 'Is he trying to get you to do somethin'? Say somethin'?'

She shook her head and took a deep, shuddering breath. 'It's nothing to do with anything. And yet I can't get it out of my head. I – I think I've been quite stupid about things.'

Daryl was silent a long time, just drinking his coffee.

'I went back to the office after work today,' she said finally. 'I forgot to put a letter on the commandant's desk that he'd asked for. The office seemed empty so I just walked right in and I saw – saw him and Frau Grimes in there.' She gave him a meaningful look. _Please don't make me say it._

Daryl nodded slowly, seeming to understand what Beth was saying. 'Confrontin',' he said.

Beth felt her face crease up and tears spill down her face. She sat forward, covering her face with her hand, embarrassed. Daryl didn't reach out her to her or say anything. She dabbed her eyes on the sleeve of her coat and sniffled, trying to stop.

'Why you cryin', Beth?' he asked finally.

'I don't know,' she said thickly. 'I've never seen anything like that before. And I was thinking how kind he's been to me, and that I was afraid of the Stasi until I started to get to know him, and now I realised I don't know him at all. He _is_ frightening.'

Daryl took her coffee from her and reached for her handbag. 'You got a hankie in here?' She nodded and he pulled it out and passed it to her. Then he took off his coat, placed it over her knees and gave her her coffee back. 'You got a shock,' he said. 'That's all.'

She nodded, wiping her face and taking a deep breath. 'It was awful, like a bad dream. I've never seen anyone look like that before. The look on his face, sort of angry and cruel.'

'He was forcing her?'

'I don't think so. She looked sort of resigned. Like it had happened before and she was waiting for it to be over.'

She was silent for a while, watching the street outside. After a few minutes she said, 'Glenn asked me that first night why Frau Grimes was being so nice to me. Maggie told him off, sayin' that people could be nice. It didn't have to be for a reason. I wonder, if it's been going on for some time between her and Blake, and I sort of feel like it has, whether she thought that with me around …' Beth looked down at the mug in her lap. 'She's said things like he likes these sorts of clothes and that I should try to please him. I thought she just wanted to help me keep my job.'

Beth glanced at Daryl and there was a hard expression in his eyes as he watched the street.

'I don't know. Maybe I'm reading too much into it,' she said.

'I don't think you are.'

Beth felt sick. Take her place as Blake's mistress. Have him look at her like that. She shuddered. 'It was like they hated each other. I've never – I haven't –' She bit her lip, trying to say that she'd never been with a man before but too wretched to say the words. 'I didn't think it would be like that. So angry. I had it in my head that it would be sort of … romantic or something.'

'It can be a lot of things,' Daryl said. 'Ain't gotta be hateful. Is what you make of it.'

Beth chewed on a nail and looked out of the window. 'Why do you want me here, Daryl?' she asked eventually. She wasn't being much help and surely she couldn't be the only one he could ask.

'Why are you here?' he countered.

She shrugged. 'I don't know. I just got this feeling that something isn't right. Out there, you know. In our city. I'm trying to figure it out, as fast as I can. Things aren't adding up for me. But sitting here, I wonder what I'm doing. I feel useless.'

'Maybe I'm givin' you some time to think.'

She put her head on one side and looked at him. Yes, maybe he was. But he wasn't telling her what to think. He was probably the only person who hadn't done that lately. The government told her she should be happy and Maggie and Glenn wanted her to leave with them. The commandant and Frau Grimes were manipulating her.

She looked out the window. If she had time to think, she may as well use it.

…

Beth lapsed into silence after that, and Daryl noticed that she did her best to keep her eyes on the street but her attention drifted every few minutes. Daryl kept one eye on her and another on the bakery. He knew she'd had a shock – anyone would, but particularly someone as innocent of the world as she was. He wanted to beat Blake till he was bloody for letting Beth walk in on them like that. But maybe it the best thing for her to see in the circumstances. People could show one face while concealing another. She needed to learn that.

Better she see what being Blake's mistress would be like before she found herself over that desk herself. Jesus Christ, his blood boiled when he thought about that.

Beth looked back at him after a while. Her face was pale, like moonlight on snow. 'Where's your brother?'

Daryl looked over at her. 'Makin' a goddamn nuisance of himself, that's where.' He was holed up in Daryl's apartment drinking 'shitty communist whisky' and railing against the capitalist bastards who wouldn't give him a job. None of the world's leading political systems seemed to suit him that week.

'Are you happy he's back?'

'Nope.'

She raised her eyebrows, but he stared hard out the window. He didn't know what to think about Merle being in East Berlin himself.

Beth changed tack. Seemed like she'd done her thinking and now she wanted to talk. 'Why do you do the things you do? I mean, stay, when you could leave yourself?'

'Ain't nothin' for me on that side of the Wall.'

'There was your brother.'

'He left a long time ago. Would have gone before they built the Wall, if I'd wanted to.'

'But why not want to?'

She wasn't just asking out of nosiness, he knew. She had family on both sides of the Wall. It was gonna be hard for her to choose. Hadn't been hard for him, though. 'When I woke up in August that same mornin' as the rest of East Berlin and saw that barbed wire, I thought, that's it. I'll never see him again. Thought it would be that simple for everyone, but then I started meetin' people who had their goddamn hearts near broke by that fuckin' Wall, and I thought, if they want to be over there, and I can help 'em, I'm gonna get 'em over there. Sort of felt like it was my job seeing as I was going to stay.'

She was silent a long time. Looking out the window, she whispered, 'I don't think I can go. Even for Maggie and Glenn, I don't think I can do it.'

The look on her face was so guilty. So ashamed. Like she was confessing to leaving someone behind, not staying where she was. He got that. People you loved were somewhere, even if that person was goddamn Merle, you felt guilty if you didn't try to be with them.

Maggie and Glenn were going to go. He could see it in their eyes, that they were hungry for it. Beth could see that too, he was sure, so it had to be eatin' her up to know that she didn't want go with them.

'It's not just daddy and Shawn being here, thought that's a big part of it. I just can't see myself over there. And if there are people over here who need help, people like Ana, then I think I'd be happier doing that.'

Daryl dug his cigarettes out of his pocket and offered her one, looking her over. He'd known there was something different about her. Something courageous along with that vulnerability. And he was kinda tired of getting people across the Wall all by himself. Being the only one who wasn't counting the days till he could slip past those gates to a new life on the other side.

He held out a lighter and lit the f6 for her. 'Then stay here with me,' he said.


	7. Chapter 7

**So, before we get started, a little story: last night I say to my boyfriend that I have a film for us to watch, it's got great reviews etc etc. Pour myself a glass of wine, put on** ** _Boondock Saints_** **... and as soon as Norman Reedus appears he slides me this look that says well-this-explains-a-lot.**

 **What, darling, I'm just as surprised as you are! *innocent look***

 **I hope you enjoy today's chapter! Special thanks to sarah0406 for the 'just another Ana' line.**

…

'Wait a bit outside,' Daryl said to Beth. 'I'll walk you back to your apartment.'

It was just after ten p.m. when they arrived at Beth's home. She expected him to slip away then but to her surprise he came upstairs with her.

His words ran through her mind. _Stay here with me._

She hadn't given him an answer yet. She had to think about it. It hadn't even occurred to her that staying in Berlin and helping people like Ana was something she could do long term. She'd thought her choices were get out, or stay and keep her head down. Working with Daryl was a new, other thing. A dangerous thing.

When Beth let them both in Maggie and Glenn were just finishing dinner. They were both surprised to see Daryl, but neither of them gave them an enthusiastic welcome. Beth tried to smile as she hovered in the kitchen doorway. Daryl hung back, saying nothing, his hands deep in his coat pockets.

'Where's Shawn?' Beth asked.

'In bed. Early shift.' She looked between the pair of them. 'Been talking about how you can help you-know-who?' she asked, looking meaningfully downstairs.

Maggie meant Ana. Beth felt herself blush, as she had been thinking about how she could help Daryl in a broader sense rather than her family. It had seemed selfish, to betray her country in order to make her life elsewhere. But to do it on behalf of others who desperately wanted to see their families again, that didn't seem so sordid. And it did mean helping Maggie and Glenn, too.

Maggie noticed Beth's guilty look and nodded, her eyes narrowed. 'Thought so.'

'Hey.' Daryl stepped forward, his expression hard as he looked at Maggie. 'This been easy for you, has it? To decide to go?'

It was Maggie's turn to flush red. She shrugged one shoulder. 'Well, yeah.' Conscious that the wireless wasn't on, she said in a whisper, 'We don't have lives here.'

Daryl's voice was low and husky. 'I'm real pleased for you. But if you think this is an easy decision to make then you ain't thought about it hard enough. Night, Beth.'

He slunk out of the room, closing the door hard behind him. Beth watched him go, feeling wrung out.

'There's dinner on the stove,' Maggie muttered, and made to leave.

'Wait,' Beth said. She looked between Glenn and Maggie. They looked as tired as Beth felt, but they were going to listen to her. 'I know why you didn't include me in your plans from the first. You think I'm just another Ana, don't you? Too weak to get out.'

Maggie glared at her and switched the wireless on to cover the sound of their conversation. It was the usual propaganda. The Stasi were working hard to keep the 'fascists' out of East Germany. The factories were so productive that they were selling surplus synthetic fabrics to Hungary.

'We weren't going to leave you behind,' Glenn said. 'But we were worried you wouldn't be able to keep up. It's going to be dangerous.'

'I know that. Probably better than both of you. And you're wrong,' Beth said, looking at them hard. 'I'm the one who's going to get _you_ out.'

Maggie and Glenn exchanged a look.

'Daryl … he seems like he trusts you,' Glenn said.

Beth shrugged. 'I think so. He keeps a lot of secrets, but we talk about things.'

'Um, Beth?'

Beth turned to her sister, who had a guilty look on her face. 'Have I been … kind of a bitch about this?'

Beth gave her a tired smile. 'Yeah, you have a bit, but I know it's not me,' Beth said. 'You want to get out. I wanted to be more understanding, but you just sprung it on me.'

Maggie nodded. 'I did. I'm sorry. I guess I just always assumed that you felt the same way as me.'

'And Daryl's wrong,' Glenn said. 'We have thought about this. We're ready to go.'

'It's not that simple,' Beth said. 'You heard what he said last time he was here. You have to work for the group first, wait your turn. That means becoming a traitor. Are you prepared for that?'

Was _she_ prepared for that?

'I'd rather get shot or imprisoned trying to get out than live like this,' Maggie said.

Beth couldn't say the same thing about herself. She wanted to live, but she didn't think she could just keep her head down, either.

'Have you already started working for the group?' Glenn asked Beth. 'You've been coming home late a lot.'

'Some nights. But some nights I'm just at typing school.'

'What does he have you doing?' Maggie asked.

Beth smiled. 'Sitting in a cold flat watching a so-called safe-house that I'm pretty sure is not a safe-house. He doesn't confide in me much. I'm not part of anything yet.'

'But you will join now, won't you, and he'll get you to do other things?' Glenn said. 'I mean, you can get into Stasi Headquarters.'

She bit her lip. 'Yeah, I guess so.' She could probably handle nosying about. She just hoped she didn't have to assassinate anyone. The cyanide capsule in the champagne was still a joke, wasn't it?

Maggie sat back, looking happier than she had in days. 'I'm so relieved. I thought you weren't going to be with us on this, Beth. I want us all to be together.'

Beth looked at them both, wishing they could see the hesitation in her eyes, the fear. The fact that she didn't want to go. But they only saw what they wanted to see. She was too tired to explain things to them, so she just gave them a wan smile and went to bed.

…

Daryl looked down at Merle asleep on his floor, the top of his head resting on the linoleum, still fully dressed. There was an empty bottle of whisky in his nerveless hand. He'd missed having blood around but he hadn't missed this. The idea of his brother was a comfort. The reality was an intrusion. A suspicious, unwelcome intrusion.

He kicked Merle in the thigh. 'Get up, you goddamn lush.' His room stank of stale booze and unwashed flesh. It wasn't as if he was a fussy housekeeper but it was a small space and Merle was invading it.

Merle groaned, one hand . 'What the fuck time is it?'

'Four in the afternoon. Have you even moved all day?' He'd just got back from his shift at the auto shop, he was greasy and dirty and he wanted a shower.

'Sure did, baby brother. Got my papers and everythin'.' He reached inside his coat and pulled them out.

'The fuck you did.' Daryl snatched the documents from his brother's hand. They looked real enough. Stamps, insignias. 'They just gave them to you?'

Merle sat up, looked at the whisky bottle and then kicked it away. 'Yeah. I told you, easy as fuckin' pie. Spun them a sob story 'bout gettin' trapped in the West. It's the ones that want to go the other way that they're worried about.'

It could be true, Daryl thought. There was Merle, and there were his papers. He didn't have the money or contacts to get forgeries. 'You still ain't told me how you got here.' Merle had been irritatingly mysterious about that but Daryl was fast losing patience.

Merle chuckled to himself. 'You remember those two blonde bits we used to hang out with? Sisters. That older one I never managed to pin down, but ooo-wee, I wanted a piece o' that.'

'Andrea?' Daryl said, not able to believe his ears. 'Andrea and Amy?'

'Yeah. They came over the Wall not long back and –'

Daryl dove for the wireless on the floor next to his bed and turned it up. Loud. He turned to Merle. 'Are you fuckin' crazy, bro?' he growled. 'You're in East Berlin now. You don't fuckin' talk like that.' And not in his flat, when Daryl had been the one to get them over - or rather under - the goddamn Wall to begin with.

Merle stared at his brother. Then he burst out laughing. 'The walls have ears?' he asked, putting his hands in the air and wiggling his fingers.

'Yeah. They probably fuckin' do. Even if they don't, just watch yourself or we'll both end up in prison. Now, in a goddamn _whisper_ , I want you to tell me what the fuck Andrea and Amy have to do with this.'

Still chuckling, Merle said, 'I ran into them not far from where I was livin'. They told me how they escaped through a tunnel thanks to some group of renegades. Got them to tell me where the entrance was, and here I am.'

Daryl stared at his brother. Andrea and Amy had told Merle, just like that? They'd been sworn to secrecy, secrecy that was meant to last forever. There were spies in West Berlin working for the Stasi for this very reason, to work out how people had escaped. The girls knew that, but they'd still blabbed to Merle. What the hell?

'Did they tell you who the renegades were?' Daryl asked.

'Nope. Didn't tell me a goddamn other thing. Said I could use the tunnel if I felt like but I was crazy if I wanted to get back in.'

It was crazy. This side of the Wall was paranoia and danger and not a shred of privacy. It was queues and cold and a colourless existence. Had Merle really wanted this? Daryl didn't know. But he was furious with Andrea and Amy. Maybe they'd thought it was okay seeing as Merle was his blood. But it wasn't okay.

It really fuckin' wasn't.

…

Beth thought she'd never seen anyone blush as deeply as Frau Grimes did when Beth arrived at work. Beth had got over her shock at seeing her and the commandant, and now she just felt sorry for the woman.

Frau Grimes stood. 'Beth, shall we get some coffee? I – I want to explain.'

Beth glanced at the commandant's door. It was closed. 'It's all right. I wanted to say sorry for barging in. I thought that the room was empty.'

Frau Grimes gave her a smile that didn't reach her eyes and turned toward the little kitchenette down the hall. Beth followed her a moment later after taking off her coat and gloves. When she got into the kitchen Frau Grimes grabbed her hard by the arm and dragged her into a corner even though there was no one else around.

'It's not what you think,' she hissed, her nails digging into Beth's arm. 'I'm not cheating on Shane. Comrade Walsh.'

Beth didn't know what to say. She would bet money that Comrade Walsh didn't know about her and the commandant.

'You need to understand, Beth. You don't say no to a man in his position. If you don't keep him happy, then …' She shook her head and took out her cigarettes, handing one to Beth and lighting it. There was a haunted look in her eyes, and Beth saw that she was right in her earlier assumption: Lori didn't want to sleep with the commandant. She wondered if he knew, or cared.

'There are certain advantages to this job,' Frau Grimes explained. 'If you want them, then you have to keep the people above you happy.'

'Frau Grimes –'

Frau Grimes gave her a wry twist of a smile. 'I think we can dispense with the formalities, don't you?'

'All right. Lori. You were so kind to me when I started and I was very grateful for that. I don't think you're a bad person, but were you hoping …' She trailed off. Lori grimaced, and she knew that she was right.

'Was I hoping you'd take him off my hands? Yes. I'm sorry. It's awful, but I'm trapped you see? I can't tell the commandant to stop or I'll lose my job. I thought you liked him, and if you did there wasn't really any harm.'

Beth shuddered a little. 'I did like him. He was kind, and he's handsome.' Lori looked hopeful, and Beth realised Lori still thought there was a chance she'd take him off her hands. 'But the look on his face when I saw you both … You couldn't see it, but it was truly dreadful. Like he hated you.'

Lori smoked her cigarette, looking gloomy. 'I've seen it, believe me.'

Lori said she was trapped, but Beth didn't believe it. No job was worth what she was going through. Being forced against her will. Lori seemed to have a taste for the finer things in life, but no amount of silk stockings and Western cigarettes were worth degrading yourself like that. 'Can't you tell him that you love Walsh? He knows you're together.'

'I think that's what makes it twice as fun for him, being able to shake Shane's hand at functions and talk politics with him, all the while gloating over the fact that he's screwing me.'

What was wrong with the man? How could he seem so affable but conceal such a cruel nature? It was doubly shocking as Beth wondered if she would have found out before it was too late, like Daryl had said. Before he had her over the desk and ... It didn't bear thinking about. She should be more careful with whom she trusted.

Did that mean she should be wary of Daryl, too? Could he be hiding something from her?

Beth asked, 'Were you sleeping with him when you were married?'

'God, no. It was a mistake that happened when I was vulnerable, and I haven't been able to stop it since.'

They smoked their cigarettes in silence.

'Is he in today?' Beth asked finally.

Lori shook her head. 'I haven't seen him.'

Beth was glad, and hoped he had important things to do, time consuming things, far far away.

…

Daryl fell into step with Beth when she was halfway home, just peeling out of the shadows and paced beside her.

'It's time to get Ana out. Are you in?' His voice was low and husky, and he stood close, his arm pressing against hers. She could feel the strength of him. His face was hard, like there was something on his mind troubling him, but she guessed that if she asked that he wouldn't share what it was.

Beth felt a thrill go through her. It was time for her to decide: was she in, or was she out?


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you so much for all the reviews, favourites and follows for this story! I was worried that it wasn't going to take off and the setting was just too weird for a TWD fanfic, but it's really grown in popularity the last few days. I am feeling so encouraged, thank you!**

...

Beth had been waiting for days to catch Ana at the right moment. She finally spotted her leaving the grocery store one evening, her face wan, dangling her shopping bag from one hand.

Beth fell into step beside her, like Daryl did to her when he just appeared out of nowhere. _I'm doing it. I'm part of the group now._

'I know where your boyfriend is,' Beth said in a low voice. Ana stared at her but kept walking. 'I also know he left you behind, and he's a worthless human being.'

'Where is he?'

'He's gone over the Wall.'

Ana's face creased in anguish. 'I don't know why he just left me. You know, I've almost been hoping that he's in prison, not … over there. Because as terrible as that would be it would mean he still loves me. How do you know for sure?'

Beth pressed her lips together. 'I can't tell you that. But I can see to it that you get to tell him to his face just how worthless he is. Would you like to do that?'

'I just want to leave. There's nothing here for me now. I'm so lonely, and I think I'm losing my mind. I can't find anything in my apartment. My food tastes strange. I wake up in the middle of the night and wonder if I'm even real anymore. It's ever since Conrad left. I – I'm not strong enough without him.'

'You are, and you will be,' Beth told her. 'I'm going to get you out. Don't start doing anything different. Don't act differently, happier or anything like that. And don't tell anyone you've spoken to me. All right?'

Ana nodded, and Beth walked in silence beside her a moment before turning down a side street. Daryl had told her how to check if she was being followed. She took random turns, waited in shadows. It was snowing and it was late, and there were not many people about. When she was certain there was no one on her tail she headed for the meeting place.

Daryl was seated in a booth in a dark corner of the Schwarzer Samt bar. He had a tumbler of whisky before him and was smoking an f6. Beth got an Armagnac from the bartender and slipped into the booth opposite him. There were a handful of people at the other tables, and some East German pop music played on a record player.

'She's in,' Beth said softly.

He nodded once. 'Were you followed?'

Beth shook her head. 'There was no one following me from work or after I talked to her.' She took a sip of her brandy. 'Ana said some odd things. Her nerves are on rattled. She thinks she's going mad.'

Daryl frowned. 'What exactly she say?'

'The food doesn't taste the same since Conrad left. She can't find anything in her apartment. She's starting to doubt her own existence. Isn't that strange?'

He looked around the bar for a moment, thinking. 'They're gaslightin' her.' He saw her confused look and said, 'Stasi agents are goin' into her apartment while she's at work. Movin' things around, changin' her usual brand of coffee for another, stirring salt and sugar into things.'

Beth stared at him. 'Why on earth would they do that?'

'Makes her fragile. Doubts herself. She can't plot against the government or plan an escape if she feels like she's losin' her mind. Nasty fuckin' way to subdue people, but it works.'

Beth was indignant. 'But that's terrible. She hasn't even done anything.' Yet.

'The Stasi wants to see that she doesn't. Subduin' her is easier than waiting for her to make trouble for 'em.'

Beth thought about this. It made sense in a twisted sort of way. Conrad leaving must have put the agents onto Ana. They would have deemed her an escape risk. It might even have been the commandant himself who had ordered the gaslighting. He was in charge of their sector. She was glad all over again that she'd walked in on him and Lori. If that was the sort of thing he did to people like Ana she was glad she knew his true nature.

'Daryl, we've got to get her out.'

'We will.' He downed his whisky and looked at her closely. 'How's it feel?'

She realised he meant being part of things. Working against the Stasi. Her heart had pounded as she'd talked to Ana. The air around her in the bar felt electric. She smiled at him. 'It's scary. But it feels pretty good.'

They sat in silence for a moment. Beth studied him covertly. She liked watching his large hands as they toyed with his whisky glass. He had a smear of engine oil across one knuckle, and she wondered if that had anything to do with what he did all day. She didn't know where he worked. Perhaps he maintained the machines in a factory, or worked as a mechanic.

'How are we going to get her out?' she whispered, leaning forward.

He gave her a narrow, assessing look. There was a glimmer of a smile at the corners of his mouth though. 'Ain't you a curious cat.'

Beth shrugged, smiling. 'I'm part of it now. I want to be there when she goes over the Wall. Has it got anything to do with the bakery we were watching?'

He just looked at her, amused.

'It is, isn't it?' She sat back, thinking. It couldn't be just a safe house. If Daryl'd had people watching it around the clock then he would have known that Merle was in there. But he'd been dumbstruck when his brother had appeared. His brother who was supposed to be in West Berlin.

Aha. That was significant.

'There's a tunnel, isn't there?' A tunnel in the basement of the bakery that went under the Wall. Daryl didn't need people to get over it at all, past the dogs and machine guns and floodlights. They went under instead. Silent. Undetectable.

He reached for her hand, squeezing her wrist in warning, but his eyes admiring. 'You're too smart for your own damn good, Miss Two Fingers.'

Then he saw something over her shoulder, and his face hardened and he released her wrist. Beth wanted to turn, to see what it was, but caught herself. It might look suspicious if it was an agent.

'Well ain't this cosy.'

Beth looked up at the man standing beside their table. Merle. She shot a look at Daryl. He didn't seem very happy about it.

'Get lost, Merle.'

But Merle pushed himself into the seat next to Beth, making her slide across to make space for him. 'Nuther round for you both?' he asked.

'We were just leaving.' Daryl stood, waiting for Merle to let Beth out of the booth.

Merle shrugged. 'Suit yerself.'

Beth and Daryl left the bar. 'I don't trust him,' Daryl growled in a low voice when they were outside. 'He said two of my group I got over the Wall told him about the tunnel. They knew him, from before. Knew he was my brother. I can't work out whether they'd tell him, or whether he's lyin'.'

'What can you do about it?' Beth asked.

He looked around, sighing. 'Nothin'. I can't contact the two in West Berlin to find out if he's tellin' the truth. I ain't got another way to get people out. I just have to trust that my own blood's not about to betray me.'

Beth said nothing. The icy air bit into her body through her coat, and she shivered.

He looked her over. 'You're cold. Go on. Get home.'

She hesitated. 'I don't know where you live. I don't know how to contact you in an emergency.'

'What emergency?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know. Just an emergency.' It didn't feel right somehow that she couldn't go to him if she needed him. She couldn't imagine what that need would look like, but she would feel more secure if she knew she could find him.

He looked at her for a long moment in silence. Then he took her elbow and turned her around. 'That one,' he said, pointing to a grey building a few blocks away with white rectangular windows. 'Top floor. Number 4B.' His hand rested lightly on her arm and he spoke softly into her ear. 'Now you're learnin' all my secrets.'

…

'I can't believe that this is really happening.' Ana's face was pale, but she looked calmer than Beth had seen her in weeks. They were inside the safe-house across the road from the bakery. Daryl would be on his way by now.

It was six days since Beth had told her she could get her out. Daryl had told her they should wait, just in case someone had seen Beth with her in the street with Ana and connection her with Ana's subsequent disappearance. And just in case someone saw anything suspicious happen near the bakery. It had been as silent as a tomb.

'Why are you helping me?' Ana asked, her eyes shining in the darkness. It was past two in the morning, but Beth didn't feel tired. On the contrary, she was keyed up, excited.

'I wanted to,' Beth said softly. 'I didn't think it was fair that your boyfriend abandoned you like he did. You should have gone together.'

Ana's lips thinned at the mention of Conrad. 'I'm going to give him a piece of my mind when I see him. And then I never want to lay eyes on him again.'

Beth smiled at her. 'That sounds like an excellent plan.' She went to the window, peering out. The street was silent and still.

The door opened behind them and both girls whirled to see who it was. Daryl came through the darkness toward them.

'It's all quiet out there,' Beth whispered.

Daryl went to the window himself and peered out. He stood quietly for about ten minutes, just watching. Then he turned to Ana. 'You ready?'

Ana nodded.

Daryl looked at Beth. 'I'm going to take Ana across now. You're gonna to stay here and watch the bakery. If anyone comes past actin' suspicious, or if anythin' doesn't seem right, raise the blind by a few inches and I'll see it before I come out. Don't,' and he looked at her hard, 'cross the street yourself. Stay here. All right?'

Beth nodded. 'Be careful.' She turned to Ana, embracing the girl. 'I hope you have a long and happy life,' she whispered into her hair. 'You're worth ten of people like Conrad.'

Ana squeezed her hand, tears shining in her eyes. 'I'll always remember your kindness.'

And then Daryl and Ana were gone, slipping quietly out of the flat and down the stairs. Beth stood close to the window, a little to one side, and saw them appear and cross the street. Within seconds they'd slipped into the bakery and the street was silent once more.

Beth let out the breath she'd been holding. In a few minutes Ana would be along that tunnel and in West Berlin.

There was the sound of an engine and Beth craned her neck to see where it was coming from. A large brown van skidded to a halt outside the bakery. The double doors at the rear were flung open and a half-dozen or so soldiers jumped out. Beth watched in horror as they kicked in the door to the bakery and ran inside.

Beth reached for the blind, to pull it up, to warn Daryl, but the gesture was as stupid as it was futile. Her heart pounded in her ears for a few seconds, she was frozen in indecision – and then there was the sound of gunfire. Three shots. Then four shots. Then two more.

Beth felt an almost overpowering urge to run. Run somewhere – toward the soldiers, away from them, all the way back home. But she stayed where she was, waiting, nails digging crescents into her palm.

A soldier came out of the building carrying Ana, one arm held round his neck, her body and head slack and her feet dragging. There were dark bloodstains down the front of her dress and her pallor was ghostly white. The soldier slung her into the back of the van, and she tumbled like a doll. Beth could tell that she was dead.

Oh, god. Where was Daryl?

An officer appeared from behind the van and looked at the body, his hands clasped behind his back. Commandant Blake. It was a shock to see him outside the office. Looking so calm in the face of death and violence. He looked toward the entrance, waiting.

Beth looked too, her heart racing. There were still soldiers inside. Five, or maybe more. All with guns. All trained to shoot to kill.

 _Where the hell was Daryl?_


	9. Chapter 9

**Did you all see the news about that woman biting Norman Reedus at Walker Stalker Con? He even posted on Instagram about it. My god, people can be crazy.**

 **I hope you enjoy today's chapter!**

...

Beth watched the scene outside, her breath misting up and then crystallising on the glass, frozen in place. Soldiers went in and out of the bakery for the next few hours, Commandant Blake himself disappearing inside at about half-past four. Beth watched his broad back going through the doorway and she gripped the windowsill with her hands. There was a terrible finality to it. If he was going in then Daryl wasn't coming out.

The soldiers outside by the broken door were listless, bored even. They waited by the van by Ana's dead body, smoking cigarettes and chatting. One of the soldiers closed the van doors.

It had been Beth's idea to help Ana escape, and now she was dead. They'd done something wrong. Beth had been followed, or their presence in the safe house had been noticed.

Eventually Commandant Blake and the soldiers gathered outside. They got back into the van and drove away, leaving one man by the broken door of the bakery to guard it.

Beth started to panic. She hadn't been able to think straight since she'd heard the gunshots and she wasn't thinking any more clearly now. There was no one she could go to. She didn't know anyone else in Daryl's group. Was she supposed to just go to work and face the commandant, pretending she didn't know his men had just murdered Ana? Not beg him to know what had happened to Daryl?

The only thing she did know was where Daryl lived. In case of emergencies. If ever there was an emergency, this was one. It was illogical, even a foolish place to go under the circumstances, but she had nothing else, except a crazy hope that he might be there.

There were a few early risers on the streets as she hurried toward Daryl's block of flats. What had he said? Top floor, apartment 4B. It was an old, unloved building with a loose bannister rail and creaking stairs. She ran all the way to the top floor and hammered on the door to 4B.

 _Please be there. It makes no sense, but please be there somehow._

The door opened. A sleepy figure rubbed his eyes and muttered, 'Whaddya want?'

Merle.

She barrelled into the apartment, shoving him back and slamming the door behind her. 'You did this!' she shrieked. 'You've killed him! You've killed him.' Hours of pent up fear and anxiety were unleashed on the man. She battered at him with his fists that he fended off easily.

'Jesus fuck, girl. What the hell's goin' on?' He caught Beth's wrists in his hands. His face was creased from sleep and he was groggy. He'd slept in his clothes and wore a dirty white t-shirt that reeked of cheap whisky, and a black vest.

Beth's chest heaved and she struggled against his grip. 'You're a spy,' she accused. 'You've thrown your own brother to the Stasi, you've –'

One of Merle's hands clamped over her mouth. 'Shut it,' he hissed. He gave her a hard look, telling her he meant it, and then released her and went over to the wireless and switched it on. With the announcer blaring, he came back to her. 'Daryl says this place could be bugged. I don't know what sort of shit's goin' down this side of the Wall but you're gonna talk us both dead if you don't keep your fuckin' voice down.' He spoke in a ragged whisper. 'Now why the fuck have you come here screamin' like a banshee?'

'The tunnel,' Beth hissed. 'The tunnel you came through. Daryl thought it was safe and he tried to take a girl through tonight. She was shot, killed, and now he's disappeared. He's probably dead. How could you do this to him?'

'Daryl's the fuckin' traitor? Daryl?' Merle reeled back, blinking. Beth could see he was thinking rapidly, piecing things together.

'Like you didn't know. Like you just didn't give him up to the Stasi,' Beth said.

He shook his head. 'I didn't know. How the fuck do you know? Who are you?'

Beth watched him carefully. He reeked of booze and he was probably still drunk, and she'd surprised him half asleep. His shock seemed to be genuine. But she'd learned her lesson with Commandant Blake: you couldn't trust anyone, not matter how sincere they looked. People hid their true face.

'I'm no one. Turn me into your bosses, I don't care. His blood is on your hands.' Beth turned and left the apartment. She was outside and along the street when she heard heavy footsteps behind her.

Merle caught up with her and grabbed her arm. 'Listen. Listen would you? Slow down.'

Beth slowed her pace but kept walking. She'd had no sleep and she didn't know what she was going to do next. If she didn't keep moving she was going to fall apart.

'How do you know that girl's dead?'

'They slung her in the back of the van. She looked dead to me.'

'And Daryl? Did you see him at all?'

Beth shook her head. Why was he even asking her? He could find these things out from his handler. He was obviously a spy.

'If you didn't see him bein' carted off too then he's not dead. He's escaped.'

She wheeled to face him, stopping in her tracks. 'Then why weren't they looking for him? They were just standing around.'

Merle laughed. 'Escaped down the tunnel, girl. He's in West Berlin.'

…

'Maggie. Maggie, wake up.'

It was half-past five and Maggie had been fast asleep. Her eyes fluttered open as Beth shook her. 'Beth, what's wrong?' She sat up, immediately awake.

Beth felt exhausted tears slip down her face. 'Daryl's gone.' She told her sister the whole story in a whisper. The plan to get Ana out. The soldiers. The gunfire. And Merle.

Maggie thought for a moment. 'He could be right. That would explain why the soldiers weren't searching for him. They couldn't follow him into West Berlin.' She looked at her sister. 'You need to sleep, Beth. You have to go to work soon and pretend that everything's normal.'

Beth shook her head. 'I don't know if I can face that man.'

'The commandant? Beth, you have to. You can't act differently. When you became a part of this you knew that you couldn't just walk away if you got scared. We're stuck here for now. This is our life.'

Despite Beth's protests Maggie helped her out of her coat and shoes put her into her own bed that was still warm. 'I've set my alarm clock for you for seven-thirty. Try and sleep till then, okay?'

When she was alone Beth closed her eyes, but her thoughts wouldn't stop. _We're stuck here for now._ They might be stuck there forever. Without Daryl they were going to have to work out their own way to escape. She would have to take his place for Maggie and Glenn, and she would need to do it alone as she didn't know anyone else in the group.

Without Daryl. Those two words made her feel utterly bereft.

…

'Beth, you look like death warmed up.'

Beth hung up her coat and scarf and took the cover off her typewriter. 'I had a terrible night,' she said to Lori. Her hand fluttered over her belly. 'Cramps.' She'd never had bad cramps but she knew some women did, and it was difficult to get hold of aspirin. It was the best excuse she could come up with.

'Here. Look up at me.' Lori came over with her compact and sat on Beth's desk. Beth dutifully turned her face up to Lori and let her powder her tired, dull skin. 'Now a tiny bit of blusher and some lipstick … there. Much better.' She hesitated. 'This is for you,' she whispered. 'Not to please him.'

Beth couldn't help but smile. 'Thank you, Lori.'

'He's in a foul mood today,' Lori went on in a whisper. 'Something went wrong on an operation last night. Shane's been in there with him for the last half hour. Why don't you take them in some coffee?'

Beth wanted to refuse but she knew Maggie was right: she couldn't act any differently now. She nodded and went to get the coffee tray.

As she always did, she knocked softly on the commandant's door and pushed it open. He was behind his desk and Comrade Walsh was sitting opposite, arms folded. Beth remembered the disinterested way he'd looked at Ana's body, as if she were just a pile of rags and not a dead girl.

'… and she's the last person we expected to find down there. A girl like that should have been subdued … Ah, thank you Fraulein Greene. Just here on the desk,' the commandant said. Beth put the coffee down and left the two men.

She went back to her desk and worked slowly through her typing, turning the commandant's words over in her mind. He and Walsh had to be talking about Ana. So, they hadn't known it was Ana who was going to escape, they just knew someone was going to, and via that tunnel. It had to be Merle who'd betrayed Daryl. He'd found out about the tunnel from old members of the group and had come through it and told the Stasi about it. How could he do such a thing to his own brother?

Unless … Beth didn't want always to look for the best in people, not after what had happened with the commandant. But what if Merle hadn't known that it was his own brother getting people out? Maybe he'd just wanted to ingratiate himself with the Stasi and used whatever information that came to hand? It explained why he'd said _Daryl's the traitor?_

It was possible. Either way, she didn't trust Merle. It was his fault that Daryl was in West Berlin, lost to them forever.

…

'Beth, why don't you come into my office?'

Beth looked up from her typing, face carefully neutral. Lori was at lunch. The commandant was standing in his open doorway, doing his best impersonation of an affable man.

It had been four days since Daryl had disappeared. Every morning and every evening she hoped for him to step out of the shadows and appear at her side, like nothing had happened. The city of millions felt empty without him. She was going to have to accept that he wasn't coming back.

 _Go to hell._ 'Yes, of course,' she said lightly, and followed him into the office.

Blake sat down beside his desk and Beth sat before him. 'I'm sorry, I've been meaning to talk to you sooner but I've had my hands full this week. It's about your father.'

Beth stiffened. She hadn't expected that. It hadn't crossed her mind that Blake would actually help them.

He looked grave. 'I haven't been able to find much out. Some files are closed even to me. But if I could demonstrate some willingness on your family's part to work with us it might help your father.'

'What sort of thing did you have in mind?' Beth asked. She knew what he meant. Spying. Informing on her friends and neighbours. She didn't believe him when he said that some files were closed to him. He was the commandant of their sector. He had to know everything that had happened. What he meant was that he wouldn't help her unless she helped him.

He tapped his thumb lightly on the table top. 'Well, as you know the Stasi are in the business of keeping East Germans safe. There are those, though, who don't want us to be safe, and seek to undermine what we have.'

Beth fought to keep her face neutral. What they had? They had nothing but lies and queues and oppression.

'It takes many forms,' he went on. 'Speaking out against the government, even in the smallest way. Plotting. Planning escapes. But mostly it's all talk, and it's damaging talk. It makes people unhappy. If you were able to keep an ear open for this sort of thing, and if you brought anything to me – names, addresses, that sort of thing – it would help your father immeasurably. No one would need to know. I'd keep your contribution a secret.'

Beth wanted to slap his face. How dare he coerce her like this and try to make her think that he was acting benevolently? But she had to be clever, and pretend like she believed him. 'I can do that,' she said. She could, but she wouldn't. And that meant she and Maggie and Shawn were never going to see Hershel again. It hurt so much, but she couldn't betray strangers for these people.

He smiled. 'Good girl. Do you have anything you'd like to tell me now?'

 _Wouldn't you like to know._

But she could tell him nothing about Daryl and his group. She didn't know anything, really. Nothing that also didn't implicate her and Maggie.

Or rather, she knew one thing. At the birthday party she'd seen Comrade Grimes give Daryl a piece of paper surreptitiously. What would it be worth to Blake to know that one of the Party members might be implicated in an escape plot? Beth had observed the exchange in all innocence. Nothing could lead back to her and her family. And they would be able to know something about their father's imprisonment. Maybe even see him.

And Daryl? Well, he was gone for good. The commandant wouldn't be able to hurt him now.

Beth bit her lip. Comrade Grimes. Lori's ex-husband. Maybe it was nothing, and Beth wouldn't even get anyone into trouble, but it would mean they would get to see their father. She looked at Blake. It would be just so easy to tell him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you for all the comments on the last chapter. No Beth, don't do it, don't do it!**

 **It would be tempting though, right? I like to think that I wouldn't be tempted to betray a stranger for the good of my family, but I think in reality it would have been a very hard thing to refuse. I'm sure many people were manipulated into becoming informants out of fear or love for their relatives. Beth's facing a difficult choice.**

 **On with the story!**

…

'No, nothing, Commandant Blake. I don't actually see that many people.' She gave him her sweetest, emptiest smile.

Commandant Blake considered her for a moment. 'All right, Beth. But I want you to come to me if you see anything or hear anything strange. For your father's good.'

When she'd closed the office door behind her she let go of the tight grip she had on her anger. Hideous man.

Lori was back from lunch and noticed the grim expression on Beth's face. 'Has he done anything?' she whispered, nodding at the commandant's door.

'No, no,' Beth said quickly. 'I ... was thinking about a fight I had with my sister.'

'Your sister? I could have sworn that your expression was something to do with a man. I looked like that for weeks when Rick and I were breaking up.' Lori took out a cigarette and began smoking it thoughtfully.

Beth thought there was a touch of wistfulness about Lori whenever she spoke about Comrade Grimes. There was certainly regret. 'Are things are really over between you and your ex-husband?' Beth asked, going to her desk and sitting down. 'You might find a way to move past the terrible thing that happened to you both one day.'

Lori chewed the side of her nail, her eyes unfocused, lost in memory. 'It wasn't just losing the baby,' she said. 'We'd grown apart. We didn't have the same ideals any more. He was getting more serious with the Party. He said I was frivolous.' She looked down at her silk blouse, her painted nails, the Kent cigarette she was smoking. 'I think he was right. But I think you have to live in the moment. Things are so …' she dropped her voice even more and leaned forward toward Beth, 'uncertain here. The frivolities, they take me out of myself.'

It would be so easy, Beth realised, to close your eyes and ears to the injustices everywhere and enjoy what privileges you could scrape together. But what Lori didn't see was that she was paying a supreme price for her lifestyle. She'd lost her husband and she was mistress to one man while seeing another. That had to make things even worse for her, and then she'd just need more frivolity to mask her unhappiness.

 _I'm not going to wind up like her_ , Beth thought to herself, fitting a sheet of paper into the typewriter. _I'm going to find value in my life, even here._

…

'Fraulein Greene.'

Beth started at the sound of the masculine voice. She was just a few blocks from Stasi Headquarters and on her way home, and her immediate impulse was that the voice belonged to Daryl. But it wasn't Daryl who appeared at her side.

'Comrade Grimes,' she said in surprise. And then her heart leapt. Maybe he had some news about Daryl. Maybe they were in league together. She was glad all over again that she hadn't given into that wild, foolish impulse to tell the commandant what she'd seen at the party.

'I know we don't know each other, but I want to presume on your friendship with my ex-wife. I have a favour to ask you.' He smiled at her as he walked by her side, but the smile didn't reach his blue eyes. He was a handsome man with an open, friendly face. He would probably be magnetic if he was happy. Beth had a sudden wish to see him laugh, for his sake. She had a sense that both he and Lori were lost without each other. His warmth would melt her brittleness, and her liveliness would energise him. But their lives were in such a tangle that things seemed hopeless for them.

She was disappointed that he wasn't talking to her about Daryl, though. 'Of course. Anything I can do to help.'

He smiled again. 'Thank you. I have something for her, and it's in my car around the corner. I wanted a woman's opinion on it.'

If he wanted her back Beth could already tell that he was going about it the wrong way. Lori didn't need more things. She needed love and understanding. She needed someone to give purpose to her life. She needed to get away from Commandant Blake. But she walked with him, keeping these thoughts to herself, wondering if she would tell him some pretty lies or if she would tell him the truth. Not about Lori's relationship with Blake, but about the things that Lori needed.

'That one,' he said, pointing to a cream Lada sedan, and walking over to the boot.

They were down a secluded side street without lamplight and there was no one else around. Beth suddenly felt a prickle of unease. She didn't know anything about this man. She hung back, not liking to get too close to him or his car. Quickly, she looked about for anyone else who might be creeping up on her. The boot popped up.

'Goddamn it, Grimes. I'm stiff as a corpse.'

Beth's heart stopped for a second. She knew that gravelly voice. In the dim light she saw something move in the boot. Someone sitting up.

Daryl.

She pushed past Comrade Grimes and flung herself into his arms. He was still sitting in the boot, wearing his black coat and covered with a tartan blanket. She could barely see him but she could feel him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, buried her face in his warm neck and breathed him in.

Daryl stiffened, and then he laughed softly and his arms went around her. He gave her an awkward pat but there was a tightness to his embrace all the same.

Her voice was muffled by his clothes. 'I thought you were gone forever.' She pulled back. She could just make out his face in the darkness. His stubble was longer and he look tired and pinched, but he was alive and in one piece and back on her side of the Wall. It was more than she'd hoped for. Far more. 'What are you doing here? Isn't it dangerous?'

'Yes it is, so let go of him so I can close the boot,' Comrade Grimes said. 'We were on our way to a safe house when he insisted I fetch you.'

 _He had?_ Beth smiled as she pulled away.

'Need someone to tell me what our favourite commandant's been up to,' Daryl muttered as he lay back down.

Comrade Grimes closed the boot and they got into the car, Beth's feet tapping happily on the floor. Daryl had been in her life for such a short time but he'd made such an impact that she'd felt like a piece of her was missing without him in it. She had a purpose now, with or without him, but given the choice she'd much rather have him in her life than not.

Comrade Grimes drove them across the city and parked in a quiet side street. 'Daryl knows where to go,' he said, not cutting the engine. 'Get him out of the boot. As soon as you have I need to drive away.'

'All right,' Beth said, wondering about Comrade Grimes and how he got involved with Daryl. 'And thank you.'

Daryl was stiff with cold and needed some help getting out of the boot. As soon as Beth closed it Comrade Grimes drove away and they were alone. 'Which block?' she asked.

He looked around. 'That one,' he said. 'Fourth floor, number twelve.'

He walked slowly at first, but then his muscles warmed up and he walked a little faster. Beth held onto his arm to support him and he felt as cold as iron even through his sleeve. Outside number twelve he felt above the lintel for a key, and then opened the door. Beth was glad to see it was kitted out with furniture, unlike the last safe house. She went to the gas fire and lit it, and shepherded Daryl onto the sofa.

'Sit down and get warm. I'll make coffee.' She was burning to ask him a hundred questions but she could see he was in a bad state, half frozen and exhausted.

The kitchen had coffee and sugar and tinned food. When the water had boiled she added an extra spoonful of sugar to Daryl's.

'Here,' she said, handing him the cup. He was still wearing his boots and coat and she wanted to help him out of them, but it felt to intimate. They drank their coffee in silence, the glow from the gas fire painting their faces red.

'Ain't got any questions for me, factory girl?'

He was coming back to life, and she grinned. 'Thousands. Can I ask them yet?'

He gave her a small smile. 'Go on.'

'How did you get back? Where have you been? How long were you in the boot of Comrade Grimes' car?'

He rubbed a hand over his face. 'I've been stuffed inside metal boxes for a year. Feels like it, anyway. Got inside a secret compartment in the hold of a tourist bus around eleven last night. Crossed the border mid-morning. Got into Rick's boot sometime this afternoon. Waited till nightfall. Waited till my favourite Stasi secretary left her commandant's office.'

Beth blushed and looked at her coffee, hoping that in the red light it didn't show. 'So Miss Two Fingers could make you coffee as well, you mean? Honestly, that feels like all I'm good for lately.'

He nudged her foot with his. 'Ain't true. Kept your head after the other night. Ain't in a cell somewhere.'

'I did lose my head. I was frantic. They killed Ana, Daryl. I thought they'd killed you, too.'

He shook his head. 'Fuckin' gunned her down. She was surrendering, goin' back to them, but they shot her anyway.' He fixed her with an intense look. 'I didn't leave her behind. She got away from me, panicked …' He sighed heavily.

Beth realised he was worried that she blamed him. 'I never thought you did. It was six against one. I knew you had no choice. They were on you as soon as you went in. I saw it all.'

Daryl stared into the fire. Beth realised he was still in the clothes he'd been wearing the other night. 'There's hot water. Why don't you shower and I'll fix us dinner. Just tinned stuff, but you must be hungry.'

He nodded, getting up. 'Yeah.' But he didn't look happy. She saw that Ana's death was laying heavy on his mind.

While he showered she sorted through the food. There was tinned steak, another of green beans, and a jar of pickled cabbage. It would do. She fried the steak with a slightly withered onion and boiled the beans in their tin.

Daryl came back a few minutes later wearing his dirty trousers and a clean white t-shirt. 'Too small,' he muttered, yanking at it. 'Least it's clean. I'm gonna burn that other one.' He came up behind her and looked over her shoulder. 'Smells good.'

It felt so domestic all of a sudden, and the nape of Beth's neck prickled with awareness of him. She turned and handed him a plate and a fork. 'Here.'

'Thanks.' His long hair was wet and dripped onto the collar of his t-shirt. It was too tight. He was broad with strong upper arms and the t-shirt bunched at his underarms. She looked away quickly and picked up her dinner.

' _My_ commandant,' she said while they ate sitting by the fire again, wrinkling her nose to show what she thought of 'her' commandant, 'wasn't expecting Ana to be one of the escapees. Said he thought she was broken.'

Daryl chewed for a moment, forking through his steak. It was tough and a little gristly here and there, but tasty.

 _Better than squirrel_ , Beth thought.

'So he didn't know who was gonna escape. Just how.'

'Yes, that's what I made of it. It was the only thing I overheard. He and Comrade Walsh were talking in his office the same morning you went over the Wall. Or under it, rather.' She watched his face darken, and he chewed like he wanted to take chunks out of somebody. 'Merle,' she said, guessing his thoughts.

'Yeah. Fuckin' Merle.' He stabbed his fork through a green bean.

'I went to your apartment after the soldiers left the bakery. It – it was stupid, but I didn't know what else to do. He was there. I accused him of throwing you to the Stasi. He seemed genuinely shocked that you were taking someone through that tunnel. " _Daryl's_ the traitor?" were his exact words. That emphasis.'

Daryl looked into the fire, not speaking. Then he shook his head. 'I don't know what to think. Merle's an opportunistic bastard.'

'But he's your brother. Even he –'

'You can't trust anyone now,' he said sharply, looking at her through his fringe. 'I told you that.'

Beth bit her lip. 'But you trust me. Or – or you seem to.' She shrugged, looking around her. Here she was, in another of his safe houses, learning his secrets.

He looked at her a moment longer. 'Yeah, I do.'

'Why?'

He was silent a long time she thought he wasn't going to answer. 'You ain't done anything out of selfishness. You ain't just considered how things are gonna benefit you. That's rare this side of the Wall. That side of the Wall too, come to think of it.'

She studied him. 'Daryl. You've just described you, not me.'

He lifted his eyes to her in surprise. Then he shook his head and went on eating.

'Daryl,' she said again, taking a shaky breath, 'I don't think you should trust me.'

…

Daryl felt warmed through, even in a t-shirt and bare feet. He hadn't thought he'd ever feel warm again after the day that he'd had. Buried alive, it had felt like, trapped in those metal boxes, relying on someone else to get him out again. Freezing cold and no room to even scratch his nose. All he'd thought about the whole time was Beth, wondering if she'd been taken in. They knew about the tunnel. What if a dispatch of soldiers had stormed the safe house, too, and they had taken Beth? Finally, in the evening, Rick had been able to tell him that she was just where she should be at that time of day. Outside Blake's office, tapping away.

Cramped and cold as he was he made Rick wait till Beth got off from work, saying he needed her at the safe house. Needed her? It wasn't exactly true. She might have information, but it wasn't urgent. He hadn't really thought about the reason why it was important. Wanted to see her with his own eyes, he supposed. Just to make sure she really was okay.

'Daryl. I don't think you should trust me.'

He put his plate aside, feeling human again. It was a good meal. 'Why?' He looked at Beth. She was pale, agitated. There were circles under her eyes like she hadn't been sleepin'. Was that on account of him?

'Do you remember when you showed up at that party as a waiter? I saw Comrade Grimes slip you something. A piece of paper, I think.'

Observant thing she was. 'Yeah. So?'

'Today the commandant told me some lies about needing me to become an informant so we could see my daddy in prison. I was so angry. But I was also thinking about what I'd seen at the party, and …'

Daryl studied her. She looked upset, but she wasn't agitated or guilty-looking. 'Beth, you didn't tell him anything.'

'How do you know?'

 _Cos you wouldn't. I just know._

She took a deep breath. 'No, I didn't tell him. But it crossed my mind, and I feel terrible about it. That's why I don't think you should trust me.'

He sat forward. 'Beth. You ain't gotta apologise for lovin' your family. You were thinkin' of your daddy. It would be weird if you hadn't.'

She shrugged, still looking miserable.

'Like I told Maggie and Glenn, this is a goddamn hard thing to be involved in. And it don't get any easier. Never.' She was still shaking her head and not meeting his eye. She was ashamed.

'I was going a bit crazy thinking you were dead,' she whispered finally, plucking at a loose thread on the chair. 'And then when I thought you were in West Berlin and gone forever. I was going to keep going,' she said, raising her eyes to his, needing him to believe her. 'I was going to work out a way to get Maggie and Glenn out. But it was going to be so much harder, without you. For so many reasons. Not just because of what you can do.' She looked down at her hands.

He thought about earlier, about how she'd hugged him like he was her life preserver and she was drowning. Ain't nobody hugged him like that in his life. She'd felt good in his arms. Smelled good. People had been grateful and people had relied on him, but that was because of the things he did, not the person he was. Beth could look after herself. She had it in her to look after herself. Lead her own group. So her needing him for who he was was the goddamn sweetest thing anyone had ever said to him.

Millions of people this side of the Wall. Could still be fuckin' lonely. He watched her till he realised he was staring. Then he looked away and said, 'Well, if those are Blake's conditions then I guess we gotta give him something.'

Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean, let's give that fucker something juicy. Somethin' real juicy.'


	11. Chapter 11

Daryl left the safe house at four a.m. He'd had some sleep after Beth had left him. Not enough, but he needed to know if he had a life to go back to or whether it was all over for Daryl Dixon on this side of the Wall.

His apartment was in darkness. He stood, hidden in shadows outside on the street for ten minutes, just watching the windows overlooking the entrance to his block. Nothing stirred. He'd thought it had been safe to take Ana across the Wall. He'd watched that goddamn bakery round the clock for days but it seemed the Stasi had been watching it too.

He knew the consequences if he was taken in: interrogation by the Stasi, a mock trial, and then execution or life imprisonment. The German Democratic Republic had all the legal niceties in the form of courts, judges and lawyers. They'd signed the Geneva Convention that was meant to protect the people against torture and degradation. Outwardly, all was as it should be. In reality, though, the courts obeyed the Party, and the Stasi didn't let anything as paltry as a piece of paper stand in the way of extracting a confession.

Daryl looked around once more. Nothing for it: time to face his future. He had a handgun in his pocket. If it all went south he had no intention of being taken alive.

He got to his front door without mishap. Inside, the lights were out, but there was someone home. _Someone's been sleepin' in my bed._ There was just enough moonlight to make out Merle's shape. He was snoring loudly.

Daryl watched his brother in the half-light for a moment. Then he sank a knee onto Merle's chest. Hard. Merle awake with a snort and stared up at him. Daryl leaned down close to his brother and, more mouthing than whispering, said, _I'm. Goin'. To. Fuckin'. Kill. You._

…

'… Walter Ulbricht, Chairman of the State Council of the German Democratic Republic, today visited the collective farm in Leipzig where yields have tripled in the last year …'

Maggie and Beth exchanged a look. They were sitting on the scratchy mustard-yellow sofa in the living room. Shawn was in the armchair, positioned a little closer to their small black-and-white television, giving it his rapt attention. The girls knew they were just out of his eye-line.

'If it the farms are doing so well,' Maggie whispered to Beth, 'then where is all the food?'

Beth nodded, rolling her eyes. This was their evening ritual when Shawn was home: the news, watched in respectful silence. It was always the same: yields and production were going up everywhere. Their illustrious leaders visited this or that East German town. A leader of another communist state was visiting East Berlin. There was no news from the West. They could pick up Western channels on their set but they didn't put them on when Shawn was around. He'd only switch the set off.

Because it was Monday, after the news was the Black Channel, a half-hour television program that railed against imperialist propaganda and told them all how they should be grateful for the Wall for protecting them from the evil influence of the West.

If Shawn was silent watching the news, he was animated when the Black Channel came on. 'You see?' he shouted, pounding the armrest. 'You see how they spread their lies about us while concealing their own mistakes?'

Beth was only partially listening. She'd long seen the hypocrisy of the Black Channel. East, West, they both peddled lies through the television. Once she'd said this to Shawn and he'd turned a mottled red colour, and told her that it was different, that the GDR did what they had to do to keep the people safe; the West told lies in order to oppress.

'Daryl wants us all to meet,' she whispered to Maggie. 'Tomorrow night. You, me and Glenn.'

Maggie looked at Beth with shining eyes. 'So he's staying, then? He's safe?'

Beth, conscious of Shawn only a few feet away, gave her sister a half-shrug. She hadn't seen Daryl since she'd left him in the safe house two days previously. She'd been hand-delivered a cryptic note at work that day that had said, _The bar, 8pm tmr, bring 'those who think it's easy'._ Beth had grinned to herself. Daryl meant Maggie and Glenn, and at Schwarzer Samt, the only bar they'd been to together.

Beth had wondered when Daryl was going to start involving them. They were about to find out just how 'easy' it would be.

…

'Stop it, you two. You look suspicious,' Beth hissed across the booth at Maggie and Glenn. They were both looking about the bar for Daryl. Glenn was peeling the label off his beer in nervous strips.

'Sorry,' Maggie whispered, looking sheepish. 'What should we do?'

'Drink your drinks. Talk to each other.' The music was loud enough to cover their conversation, but they would attract attention if they didn't just look like three people having a drink.

It was a quarter past eight and Daryl was late. Outwardly Beth was calm, sipping her glass of white wine. Inwardly she was in turmoil. _He's just being careful_ , she told herself. _He'll show up._

Ten minutes later he slipped into their booth next to Beth. 'Sorry. Been chasin' my own tail for blocks. Can't quite believe I ain't got the Stasi onto me.' He nodded to Maggie and Glenn and gave Beth a brief half-smile. 'Factory girl.'

Beth's hands itched to touch him, to make sure he was real, so she tucked her fingers between her crossed knees. 'Are you sure they aren't?' she asked.

'Seems so. Merle, the fuckin' asshole, did me one good turn while I was over the Wall. After you bawled him out and he realised what he'd done he went to the garage where I work and told 'em I was on a bender and I'd come back when I was good and ready. I ain't been the most reliable employee so even though my boss was pissed he didn't report me as missing.' Daryl shook his head. 'Seems too good to be true, just bein' able to slip back into my life like nothin' happened.'

'Maybe it is then,' Glenn said.

Daryl gave Glenn a long look. 'I won't hold it against you if you leave now. My brother's workin' for the Stasi. I got someone shot. Nothin's rosy right now.'

Maggie was chewing on her nail, looking between Daryl and Glenn. Beth wouldn't blame them if they walked away. She, however, wasn't going anywhere.

Maggie said, 'It's risky, right? No matter what? You seem like you know what you're doing. Like you don't take unnecessary risks.'

Daryl took a deep breath. 'I don't. I don't want anyone else to die. Believe me.' He looked around the bar for a moment. 'Ana was the first, and it's my own brother's fault. He …' He cut himself off. 'But I ain't talking about the group's work with you tonight. I want to talk about Hershel.'

Beth looked at him in surprise. Daryl glanced at her before going on. 'Blake's holdin' your father, and you ain't been told why. He's indicated to Beth that he'll tell her the reason, and maybe let you see him, if she becomes an informant.'

Maggie and Glenn looked shocked. 'Beth, you can't,' Maggie said.

Beth took a sip of her wine. 'I know that. Daryl's plan is that I make up something to tell the commandant. We just need to come up with a good enough lie.'

Glenn was thoughtful. 'It'll have to be something that doesn't inadvertently get someone into trouble, but also robust enough to convince the commandant.'

Maggie shook her head. 'It sounds impossible to me. Can't you just flirt with him? He likes you. He gave you seven pairs of silk stockings. Took you to that party.'

Daryl looked at Beth, and she felt herself colour. She hadn't told him about the silk stockings. She hadn't told Maggie about Lori and the commandant, either. 'That's not going to work.'

'Why not?' Maggie asked.

Beth looked uncomfortable. Daryl lit a cigarette. Maggie's eyes flicked back to Beth, as if wondering what it was she didn't know.

Daryl went on, 'This is your first assignment. You're gonna come up with ideas, and we'll meet again in a few days.' He turned to Beth. 'Need your help with somethin' now. That okay?'

She nodded, and they got up to leave.

'Remember,' Daryl said to Maggie and Glenn, 'assume every room is bugged, and everyone within earshot is listenin'. We'll all live a lot longer that way.'

…

'Merle,' Beth said when they were outside and walking. 'Is he really working for the Stasi?'

'Yeah,' Daryl muttered. 'For your commandant.'

Beth noticed his eyes flick to her legs quickly, but he did it as he was turning his head to smoke his cigarette, like he didn't want her to notice. She was wearing the stockings. She had to around 'her commandant'. From his expression she could tell he didn't like it.

'Thing is with Merle,' Daryl said, 'is that he ain't particularly loyal to anyone but Merle. Spilled the whole goddamn story to me when I got home. He was approached by a Stasi agent in West Berlin –'

'There are Stasi agents in West Berlin?' She was in heels and the pavement was icy, and she slipped a little.

Daryl grabbed at her waist, steadying her. 'Here. Take my arm. They got Stasi agents. British, French, American and West German agents. No one trusts anyone and everyone's watchin' everyone else. Seems the women I got out through the tunnel recently weren't too careful about what they said to each other when they thought they were alone. The refugee block they were stayin' in was bugged. Merle, long-time East Berlin low-life, was asked to go back through the tunnel and find the guy who was responsible for it.'

'Not realising it was his own brother?' She held tightly to his arm, elbow looped through his, liking the feel of him.

'Yeah. They figured that someone who lived on the fringes might be able to catch someone like me. They were right on the fuckin' money, too.'

'But he hasn't told Blake, has he?'

Daryl shook his head. 'Says he won't.'

'Do you believe him?'

'I don't know what to believe. He covered for me with my boss. I ain't been arrested yet. Ain't no love lost between me 'n Merle, and he'll use any situation for his own end, but it ain't his style to be a backstabbing sonuvabitch, either.' He flicked his cigarette butt toward an open trash can.

Like with so many things, Beth supposed there was nothing that they could do about Merle. They just had to keep going, and be careful about things. 'Where are we going?'

He tilted his head and shot her a pleased, enigmatic look. 'Ah. My new scheme.'

…

Daryl'd had his idea when he'd been in the hold of the bus, approaching Checkpoint Charlie, the main border crossing between East and West Berlin. He'd seen the checkpoint in his mind. Approaching from the eastern side, it was a broad road with a pole suspended horizontally at windscreen height with two rudimentary concrete chicanes just beyond, each nearly bisecting the road and standing three feet high. They needed to be driven around, and were intended to stop people gunning a vehicle across the border. Just a few car-lengths beyond the chicanes was the American sector. There weren't any barriers on that side.

It wasn't a particularly elegant set-up, but the Wall was still relatively new. The East Germans would strengthen the barriers in time, but for now, Daryl saw opportunity.

He took Beth into an industrial part of the city, deserted at that time of night, not far from the factory where she used to work.

'We're going in here,' he said, shouldering a heavy wooden door open. They went inside, past disused machinery and the refuse of abandonment. Daryl had known about this place for a while and had guessed that it would come in handy one day.

They turned a corner and saw the flash and crackle of a welder. There was a figure kneeling by the open door of a car, mask in place.

'Tyreese!' Daryl shouted above the noise.

The man pushed back his mask, and his face creased into a smile. 'Hey, man.' He was a barrel-chested man, tall and broad with an expansive smile. 'The car's coming along. All this reinforcing's making it damn heavy though. You're gonna need to replace the engine.'

'I thought I might,' Daryl said, touching the place where the angle grinder had cut horizontally through the entire top half of the car, leaving only the window glass intact. He turned to Beth, a small smile on his lips. 'Whaddya think?'

She laughed. 'I have no idea what it is. I'm guessing an escape vehicle?' She turned to the man called Tyreese. 'I'm Beth, by the way. Nice to meet you.'

'Pleasure,' the man said, smiling at her.

'What's that you're doing, making the car bullet-proof?' she asked, nodding at the steel plates he was welding to the inside of the car doors.

'Yeah, that's the idea.'

Daryl watched Beth examine the car, walking around it, examining the modifications. She looked pretty in her heels and woollen skirt. Her hair was plaited and twisted and pinned at the back of her head. Prettier than all the Western-style trappings, though, were her intelligent blue eyes. The swanlike neck that she held so regally. Her skin was creamy and delicate, and he was conscious of his filthy, rough hands. He shoved them in the pockets of his coat.

She came back to him. 'Well, it can't fly, so I'm guessing it's not going _over_ the Wall. Through a checkpoint maybe?'

He nodded. 'Checkpoint Charlie. It hits the barrier and the roof and windscreen detach. The driver sits back up and drives it round the concrete chicanes in the road, then into the American sector.'

Beth looked at the car again. 'That's going to be dangerous for the driver. I suppose you're reinforcing it against gunfire. Will they shoot, do you think?'

Daryl shook his head. 'In broad daylight in full view of the West? Sometimes yes, sometimes no.' He looked at Tyreese. 'You decided who's goin'?'

Tyreese nodded. 'Me, Sasha, Dale and Noah. Drew straws for who's gonna be the driver. Noah got the short straw. I'm in the back, lyin' on the floor.' He grinned, as if knowing he was lucky.

Daryl nodded at the driver's side to Beth. 'Get in.' He got in the passenger side. It was a 1950s Lada and the seat backs were low. It was the people that were going to be in them that was the problem, and there wasn't much room. 'We gotta figure out how to get two people in these seats so they fit under the barrier.'

Beth looked around the interior. 'Will they need the handbrake, do you think?'

He shook his head. 'Don't reckon so. If I sit forward and lean across … 'scuse me,' he muttered, and then leaned across the centre console in front of the handbrake and put his head in her lap. 'Can you lean the other way and get your head behind me?' He had his nose against the steering wheel and his cheek resting against the tops of her thighs. Against those fuckin' stockings of Blake's.

She leaned over and fitted herself in behind him.

'Tyreese!' Daryl yelled. 'We fit?'

After a few moments assessing them, Tyreese said, 'Yeah, it'll work. Noah's skinny, and Sasha ain't that big either. Dale'll go in the back with me, across the seat.'

Daryl and Beth sat up.

'Uncomfortable, but they won't be in the car for long,' Beth said, smoothing her blonde hair back in place as she looked at him.

'All right,' he said, feeling himself smiling at her. Normally he wouldn't reveal plans to group members if they didn't directly involve them, but being trapped in West Berlin for several days made him realise that there was no one to keep the group going if anything happened to him. And, if he was truthful, it just felt good having her there with him.

Beth chatted with Tyreese as Daryl popped the hood and took a look at the engine. It was going to need to be replaced with an engine from a bigger car, like a Mercedes. He tried to concentrate on what he was doing, but kept getting distracted by Beth's legs. He wanted to reach his hands up under her skirt, unhook the stockings from her suspender belt and rip them off her legs. Because they were Blake's. But because of other reasons as well. Reasons that had nothing to do with the commandant, and everything to do with those long, slender legs of hers.

…

 **Uh, that would be pretty nice, right? *puts on silk stockings***

 **So, confession time: I don't actually know what piece of misinformation Maggie and Glenn are going to come up with for Beth to give to the commandant. I'm going to throw this out there – what do you think it should be? It has to be something that won't hurt anyone else and that Beth could credibly stumble upon. Fake papers maybe? A conversation overheard in the queue at the butchers? Full credit given to anyone whose idea/s I use naturally!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you for all the fantastic suggestions about what story Maggie and Glenn could concoct for Beth to tell the Governor. I'll talk more about that at the end so there aren't any spoilers.**

 **Thank you to my lovely boyfriend for the Governor's military history.**

 **And thank you Nine Bright Shiners for the idea about the scene with the record player and the Governor. The extended Blake scene is particularly for you. (And me, haha! And anyone else who wishes that the Governor had the goodness to match his hotness.)**

…

Shawn came into the flat, slamming the door behind him. Beth and Maggie, who were in the kitchen preparing dinner, both jumped. They heard him stomp through to the lounge room and begin unlacing his boots, muttering to himself.

'Everything all right, Shawn?' Maggie called, peeler in one hand, carrot in the other.

No answer.

Several minutes later Shawn came through to the kitchen, uniform jacket undone, shirt loosened. His hair stuck up at odd angles like he'd been running his hands through it.

'There was an escape today.' His voice was raw, his body was clenched tight.

'Oh yes?' Maggie said mildly, chopping the carrot. Beth could see her ears were pricked with interest, but her face gave nothing away.

Beth turned her back to stir the pot on the stove, not trusting her expression. If it was Daryl plan with the car, then Shawn's anger meant that it had been a success.

'Some … _fascist_ took the windscreen off his sports car and drove it under the barriers. I've been saying for weeks that the checkpoint isn't secure, but will they listen to me? No. But now they'll have to do something. More barriers, and better ones. We're going to look a fool in the Western media in the morning. How they'll laugh at us!' He struck the back of a chair with his hand and stormed out.

Maggie reached over to the wireless and turned it up. 'Lucky bastards,' she muttered to Beth. 'Was that Daryl's idea?'

'No. Yes. It was, but – oh my god, Maggie. I've got to warn him.' Maggie looked over at Beth, who was clutching the wooden spoon in both hands. 'He's been working on almost an identical plan. A Lada, and the roof comes off. If they change the barriers then it's not going to work.'

Maggie peered toward the lounge. 'Quick, go now. I'll tell Shawn you forgot to do something at Stasi Headquarters. He'll like that.'

Beth took off her apron, wondering if she should go to Daryl's flat or straight to the warehouse where the Lada was. Probably his apartment. He said he was going to work on it in the afternoons, and it was nearly nine p.m. now.

Maggie grabbed her arm. 'Tell him about an idea Glenn and I have had – that you saw Conrad with a Stasi officer or Party official not long before he escaped. See if he thinks that's good enough to take to Blake.'

Beth thought about that for a moment. 'That is a good idea. Conrad's long gone and it won't implicate anyone innocent.' Should she pick an officer or Party member to implicate, or was that going too far?

…

She'd been right – Daryl was at home. And no Merle, thankfully. When he opened the door and saw her he hurried her inside.

'All you all right? What's happened?' he asked urgently, his eyes running over her.

'I'm fine. It's your plan I've come about. The one with the car. Did you hear that there was an escape today?' Daryl was wearing a rumpled white t-shirt, one that fitted properly. He shook his head.

'Someone took a sports car through Checkpoint Charlie this afternoon without stopping. My brother just came home and told us.'

Daryl rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. 'So someone else has had that idea.'

'Yes, and apparently Shawn says they're going to secure the barriers. All yours and Tyreese's hard work will be for nothing.'

Daryl cursed, reaching for his coat, looking at the floor as if thinking hard as he pulled it on. 'I'll have to finish workin' on the engine tonight. Can you go to Tyreese and get him to tell the others they'll have to be ready to leave and at the warehouse by dawn? Then go straight home.'

She nodded. 'I can do that.'

'Good girl. Cover your hair, try not to be seen.'

'Wait, before you go – Maggie and Glenn wanted me to tell you their idea for me to take to Blake. That I saw Conrad Mueller with a Stasi officer or a Party member not long before he escaped.'

Daryl thought about this for a moment. 'I like it. And I know just who you can say you saw with Mueller.'

…

Beth got to her desk just after eight-thirty the next morning and busied herself with her typing. She didn't know what time Tyreese and the others were trying for the border. It wouldn't be too early, as daylight and activity on the Western side meant safety from bullets. The East German border guards were less likely to shoot in front of witnesses, preferring to maintain a humane façade. In the dark they wouldn't hesitate to gun them down, like they had Ana.

Beth thought she heard small noises from behind the commandant's door but resisted the temptation to ask Lori if he was in there.

Just before ten a.m., she heard his telephone ring. The commandant answered it. There was a pause, and then a few angry words, and then the phone was slammed down. The commandant's door flew open and he appeared, pulling on his peaked cap. He strode past Beth and Lori without a word, his face like thunder.

The two women watched him go.

'What do you think's got into him?' Lori ask.

Beth tried not to smile. If Blake was angry then maybe it was because another car had made it through Checkpoint Charlie. 'My brother said there was an escape at one of the border crossings yesterday,' Beth offered.

Lori nodded. 'Yes, I heard that too. But that wouldn't mean there'd be an emergency today.' The woman shrugged. 'Oh, well. Coffee?'

…

Blake came back around four in the afternoon looking tired and drawn. Beth still hadn't heard any news about an escape, but she wasn't likely to anyway. It wouldn't be on the broadcasts. But from the look on Blake's face, something had gone wrong in his sector.

Lori left the office just after five-thirty in the evening. Beth sat at her desk, looking at the commandant's office door. Should she go in and talk to him now, or wait till he was in a better mood?

There wasn't a sound from inside his office. At ten minutes to six she got up and knocked softly on his door.

'Come.'

She pushed it open and peeked inside. 'Hello, sir. I, um …' He had his boots up on his desk and a tumbler of whisky in one hand. The air hung heavy with cigarette smoke. 'Sorry, is this a bad time?'

He looked at her through the blue-grey haze, his expression tired and downcast. If he wasn't a Stasi officer she might feel sorry for him. He'd obviously had a terrible day. He put his booted feet back on the floor, heavy and deliberate, and sat forward at his desk. He attempted to look business-like, clearing his throat. 'Not at all, Beth. Come in.'

She hovered uncertainly in front of him. 'It was about what you said the other day. About if I heard something or saw something. To come to you.'

One eyebrow lifted, interested. 'Oh?' Then he glanced about the room. 'Look, I'm sick of this place today. Could we get out of here? My apartment isn't far.'

Beth felt a lurch of panic, seeing him and Lori in her mind all over again. 'I probably shouldn't, I …' _I … can't think of an excuse._

He gave her a tired smile. 'I know. You've been avoiding me since you walked in on me and Lori. I have regretted it every day since. But I hope we can still be friends.'

She forced a smile. 'So do I.'

'Then will you go with me, as a friend? I could use some company, and we should talk. About many things.'

He looked so beaten down that she felt sorry for him. She didn't trust him, but at the same time she thought he would act like a gentleman. She might learn some inside information or about his methods. And she was dying to know whether there'd been a successful escape that day. 'All right.'

She went to fetch her things. He appeared by her desk a few minutes later, shrugging into a long, heavy coat with wide lapels and fitting his cap over his head with gloved hands. She'd forgotten how tall and formidable he was when he wasn't behind his desk.

He smiled down at her and offered her his arm. 'Fräulein.'

…

His apartment was in an art nouveau block a few streets away, very well kept and appointed. They went up to the third floor and he opened the door onto a large lounge with a high ceiling and views toward the Brandenburg Gate. The room was wood panelled and hung with bevelled mirrors that reflected the soft yellow lamplight.

Beth sat on the sofa, divested of her coat. Blake brought her a glass of chilled Gewürztraminer and then disappeared again. She sipped the white wine and looked about the room. There were a lot of leather-bound books on a shelf, and a large framed map of the USSR on the opposite wall.

Blake appeared a moment later, changed out of his uniform and wearing a plain black open-neck shirt. He was rolling the cuffs back to his elbows.

'I am sick of that uniform today,' he explained, sitting down next to her on the sofa and pouring himself a glass of wine. ' _Prost_ ,' he said, toasting her, taking a sip and settling back.

Beth said nothing, hoping he would just start talking.

'I'm a good officer, Beth. I've always been good at anything I turn my mind to. But I can't be a zealot.' He glanced at her, smiling. 'Not something you've probably thought to hear a Stasi officer say.'

Beth bit back a smile. He was bragging a little, but then again, he did seem like the sort of man who would find himself coming out on top. 'When you say zealot, do you mean about the Party?'

He nodded. 'Exactly. About the Party. Unlike them I can see why our citizens might wish to leave, why they fight to leave, and why they'll only get more desperate the longer that Wall is in place. And when people do escape, who do they blame?'

She drew her brows down in an expression of concern. 'So it's true. There was an escape yesterday. I couldn't quite believe it when my brother –'

'Yesterday!' The commandant said, laughing. 'There was one today, as well. The exact same method, though this one seemed to have required more preparation.'

Beth's heart leapt. Daryl had done it. Tyreese and the others were over the Wall. Focusing on the conversation at hand, she asked, 'Why do the Party not tell the Soviets that the Wall is not working? The people don't seem happy with it.'

Blake gave her a wry look. 'Who do you think wanted the Wall in the first place?'

'Why, the Soviets. We are their western-most border.'

'No. They were against the idea. They thought it would look like admitting that communism wasn't the better system. That people preferred the West. It was the East Germans who insisted. Our own Party.' He turned toward her on the sofa. They were quite close, their crossed knees almost touching. 'You see, Beth, this is what I meant when I said I wasn't a zealot. I believe in communism. I have since I was a young man. I believe that it looks after the people. But I don't believe that everything that comes out of Party headquarters is manna from heaven.'

Beth drank her wine, thinking. If he really believed that then it was a strange job for him to be in, enforcing Party policy.

Blake got up and went to the record player in the corner. It was an old-fashioned one from during the war, in a wooden box. It played 78s, and Blake flicked through a pile of records before selecting one and dropping the needle onto it. A song Beth didn't know filled the air, with a languid beat and tinkling piano music.

'What is it?' she asked.

He smiled down at the record player. 'Jazz, from the United States. From during the war. I used to keep it hidden.'

A woman's soulful voice joined in. It made Beth think of nightclub scenes in the black-and-white films that were sometimes shown on Western television channels. The women wore spangled dresses and danced with men in tuxedos, and they all drank champagne from saucers.

Blake sat down with her again. 'I was a very young man in the war.'

Beth studied his face and did a quick sum. Yes, he would have been very young. He was older than her, but his hair was thick and dark brown. She guessed he would have been not quite twenty when war broke out. 'You served in the Wehrmacht?' she asked.

'Yes, I was an officer. Hitler hated jazz music like this. I played it as often as I could.' He laughed again.

Beth listened to the music. The woman sang in English so she didn't understand the words, but it was very beautiful. 'Who is she?'

'Billie Holiday. My girlfriend and I used to dance to this in underground clubs.'

His girlfriend. Beth wondered what had happened to her. Perhaps they'd broken up, or she'd died when the allies had bombed Berlin, like so many others had.

He seemed to be in the mood to reminisce rather than talk about the present, so she asked, 'What happened to you during the war?' She smiled. 'I don't remember any of it.'

'No, you wouldn't. I was in Berlin for the first few years, hence all the dancing. But then I was transferred to the Afrika Korps and posted to Egypt. When the British invaded in 1942 and we lost El Alamein I was captured and sent to a prisoner of war camp.' He shrugged. 'And that was me for the rest of the war.'

He spoke in so off-hand a manner, but it couldn't have been easy, a POW camp in the desert. Despite herself, Beth was interested. She'd never had the money to travel and even if she'd wanted to she could only have gone to Poland or Hungary. To have seen Egypt … Had he seen the pyramids? The Sphynx? Probably not, as a prisoner. 'How terrible it must have been.'

He thought for a moment, tapping the stem of his wineglass with a long forefinger. 'You know, it was not as bad as it could have been. Once they realised I was a soldier by trade – my father was an officer and his father too – and not because I loved Hitler, and that I believed in communism and not the master race they gave me more freedom than the others. I was allowed books. Karl Marx. Leon Trotsky. I was encouraged to educate the other German officers. As I said, I'm not a zealot, but if preaching to the disinterested got me out of the cells, then I was happy to do it.'

Beth shook her head. 'How strange that the West and the Soviets were allies back then, and not two years after the war finished we became enemies ourselves.'

'It was bound to happen. Our ideology is too different.'

Beth looked him over, puzzled. Why had he become a Stasi officer? If he'd been a soldier all his life then how did he end up in the secret police?

Blake noticed her puzzled expression. 'I know. Why the Stasi. It's an odd place for me if I can't stomach Party ideology. But I believe in the principals, if not the way they're put into practice. What the Nazis did during the war was so shocking, and at its heart, communism doesn't see race. I suppose it was what happened to Hannah that drove me to the Stasi.'

Beth wondered who Hannah was. His girlfriend in the war?

The record ended. Blake got up and turned it over. He looked down at the record spinning on the turntable. 'I haven't listened to this in years,' he murmured. 'Have you ever been in love, Beth?'

She shook her head.

He sat down close to her, his arm along the seat back. If he moved it just a few inches he could caress her neck. 'I met Hannah through friends just after the war began. She was so beautiful.' He glanced at Beth. 'A lot like you actually. Blonde. Slender. She made me feel … so many things. Like a man. When we became lovers I couldn't quite believe that she'd chosen me. And then we fell in love. I wanted to marry her, and she did too, but there was the war, and people weren't so picky about conventions at that time. We weren't in a hurry, though perhaps we should have been. She told me she was pregnant just before I left for Africa.'

Beth stayed quiet, almost motionless. Blake spoke softly, fondly, but she could tell that the story wasn't going to have a happy ending.

'When the war ended I came back for her.' He shook his head. 'She'd gone. She'd had the baby, a neighbour told me. A little girl. Inga. Dark, like me. But when Inga was not quite two they'd just disappeared. I tracked down everyone who had known her, and finally someone was able to tell me: Hannah was secretly Jewish. She and the child had been sent to Dachau.'

Beth turned cold. Dachau was an infamous concentration camp.

'They were murdered in the gas chambers at the end of 1944. I found the records.' He passed a hand through his hair. 'I don't know why she didn't tell me she was a Jew. Perhaps she thought I'd reject her, but I wouldn't have. I served in the army but I wasn't a Nazi. I loved her. I would have protected her, got her out of Germany.'

They were silent for a few minutes, listening to the music. Beth pictured him as a young man, searching for the woman he loved and the child that he'd never even seen. She placed a hand on his arm. 'I'm so sorry. That is truly dreadful.'

He looked down at her hand. 'They killed my child. I thought, this is what the West is capable of.' He gave Beth a sad smile. 'And this is why I'm here. Why I do what I do. You know, I haven't told anyone about them in such a long time. I don't think I've ever told a friend.' He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 'You're a special girl, Beth.'

She felt herself blush and looked away.

Blake studied her face. 'Is there anything I can do to undo what you saw? I saw the look on your face when you walked in on Lori and me. You were horrified. Does it help that I haven't touched Frau Grimes since?'

Beth wondered what he was asking. Help in what way?

He said, 'I thought at the party that you and I might have something special. Then I ruined it.'

They had shared a connection at the party. When he'd kissed her the whole world had fallen away for a moment. There'd just been him, and his arms around her and his mouth on hers. She'd given herself over to him in that moment.

'I – I should tell you what I overheard,' Beth said, remembering why she was there.

Blake looked a little disappointed, but he smiled. 'Of course.'

'Do you remember Conrad Mueller? He lived downstairs from me with Ana. He disappeared a few weeks ago. She disappeared too, but later. It's so strange.'

Blake nodded. 'I remember them.'

'Do you think that they escaped somehow? Well, anyway, it didn't occur to me what I was seeing at the time, but after Ana disappeared I started thinking. It didn't seem right that they would be meeting like that, but then perhaps it's nothing.' She trailed off.

'What did you see, Beth?' he asked gently.

She took a deep breath. 'Conrad and Comrade Walsh. I saw them talking together several times. I came home quite late sometimes, as my shift at the factory was long and then I'd have to queue to buy food for hours. I would see them speaking in a dark doorway, or walking together.'

Blake frowned. Beth wondered if it sounded too preposterous. Blake and Walsh were friends. Though they couldn't be terribly close if Blake enjoyed cuckolding him like Lori had said.

'How many times?'

Beth thought for a moment. What would be realistic? 'Three, I think. Over the space of a few weeks.'

'I see.' He looked serious, like he was thinking, but Beth thought that he believed her. 'Commandant, what happened to Conrad and Ana? Did they escape?'

He nodded. 'Conrad first. Then Ana tried later. It was strange that they didn't go together. We found out how Conrad had done it and waited to see if anyone else would try.' He glanced at her. 'This is in the strictest confidence, of course. I only tell you as you work for the Stasi, too. Ana shot at my men. They had no choice but to return fire, and she was killed.'

 _Liar_. Ana hadn't had a gun. Beth stayed silent and kept her face carefully blank.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I know you were friendly with her. We had no choice.'

Beth nodded and put her wine down. 'I'd better go. My sister will be wondering where I am.'

…

Blake watched Beth leave, and then swallowed the last of his wine in one go. He hadn't made many mistakes in his life, but letting Beth walk in on him taking his frustrations out on Lori was up there with the most idiotic. From the first moment he'd seen Beth she'd reminded him of Hannah. That same delicate prettiness and trusting nature. Clever, too, questioning the world around her, speaking her mind.

When he'd kissed Beth it had brought all those old memories back. All the things he'd lost. He hadn't been close to a woman since Hannah, but with Beth in his arms he'd realised what he'd missed out on. Here, then, was a chance to start over. He'd done so many ugly things after the war. As he'd risen through the ranks of the Stasi. But Beth didn't need to know about those. And maybe with her in his arms he'd be able to forget them.

In other circumstances he would have taken the wine glass out of her hand and kissed her. Picked her up in his arms and carried her to his bedroom. Made love to her. Maybe started another life in her. A baby he could hold, to replace the family that had been murdered.

But Beth was still afraid of him. She was softening toward him, he thought. It would take time, but he could wait. He was a patient man, and he always got what he wanted.

…

 **Thanks to StrangersAngel for suggesting Shane and An Amber Pen for suggesting that it be someone in the Stasi. Thank you everyone else for your ideas too!**

 **Quite a few of you have mentioned that you really love the East Berlin setting. If you're interested in learning more about it then I can recommend two German-language films, _The Lives of Others_ and _Westen_ (or _West_ in English). Also Anna Funder's journalism/history/memoir _Stasiland_ is so interesting and told in this chatty/informal style. **

**Thanks for reading, following and reviewing! I love hearing what think.**


	13. Chapter 13

**They _Seek Him Here_ has had more than 100 comments as of yesterday's chapter! Thank you so much for all your support and encouragement, it means the world to me. **

**I was feeling so Christmassy when I wrote this chapter as I'd just come home from dinner on the Southbank where there are all the pretty lights. So think of this as the _They Seek Him Here_ Christmas Special!**

…

'Merry Christmas, Daryl.' Beth put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. It was scratchy beneath her lips. He hugged her back briefly, murmuring 'Merry Christmas,' and turned to greet Glenn and Maggie.

Glenn passed a bottle of brandy to Daryl. 'East Germany's finest,' he said. 'Best not savour it.'

Maggie grinned at Daryl and passed him a plate she'd wrapped in a cloth. 'Apple strudel. The apples are good, but I don't know about the strudel. I made it myself.'

They shook the dusting of snow out of their hair and hung their coats on the pegs. It was 9pm on Christmas Eve and the four of them had gathered at the safe house to discuss their next move. Even though Christmas wasn't officially celebrated in East Germany, because it was December 24 the meeting had turned into an impromptu celebration.

Beth sniffed the air. 'Do I smell mulled wine?'

Daryl gave her a small smile and led them through to the kitchen. 'I ain't one for cookin' or for Christmas parties, but I came across a few bottles of wine and some cinnamon sticks, and …' He shrugged, stirring the pot on the stove. 'Maybe it'll be okay.'

Beth peered over his shoulder, breathing in the fragrant vapour. 'Mmm. Smells like Christmas. You know, we've had Glühwein on Christmas Eve with our family every year. Kinda feels right to have it now.'

He turned his head and smiled at her. 'Yeah? Well, s'nothin.'

Beth smiled back. Their eyes locked for a moment. Then there was the sound of Glenn cracking open the bottle of brandy behind them and Daryl backed away, putting the table between them. Beth tried not to feel downcast. It felt like every time she shared a moment with Daryl he shied away from her. The only time he got close to her was when they were working, or when he thought something was wrong. She didn't know why it mattered to her, except that she'd noticed from the first second she'd seen him that he was a good-looking man. The longer she spent in his company the more she noticed it. Of late she'd found herself wondering what it would be like if he drew her into his arms and kissed her like the commandant had. Except that he wouldn't kiss her like Blake had, she was sure. He'd be – well, she had no idea. Fiercer maybe, less practised, and probably as scared as she was.

'Think we need to goose that. It's not Glühwein without some brandy,' Glenn said, tipping a few glugs into the saucepan.

Beth busied herself finding four mugs and ladled the hot wine into them. They went to sit on the sofas before the fire, Beth and Maggie on one and Glen and Daryl on the other. The television was tuned to a Western channel showing a cheery Christmas show with lots of singing and silly costumes and dancing, and turned up loud to cover their voices.

'To the successful execution of your plan,' Glenn said to Daryl, holding up his mug. 'Beth told us the good news, about the car getting through the checkpoint.'

Daryl held up his mug, but with a puzzled frown. 'How did you know?'

'The commandant told me,' Beth said quickly. ' _Prost_ ,' she said, and clinked her mug against Maggie's. She could feel Daryl's eyes on her. They'd sharpened at the mention of the commandant.

'And Shawn told us too. He's been in a foul mood,' Maggie added. 'As a border guard he seems to take personal offence whenever there's an escape. Two in two days with the same method? He's livid.'

'I suppose that's it for Checkpoint Charlie?' Glenn asked Daryl. 'They must be reinforcing the crossing now.'

Daryl nodded. 'Yeah. It was always just going to be a one-time thing. I had Tyreese and the others who crossed with him waitin' for weeks. They were with me from the start almost.'

From the start, and Daryl had already been working for months. 'How many have you got waiting?' Beth asked.

Daryl thought for a moment. 'A few dozen.' He thought some more. 'No. More than that. I've … kinda changed my policy. Since Ana.'

Beth looked at him closely. Did he mean that he was taking through people who wanted to leave but weren't able to work for him? A look of silent understanding passed between them, and she knew that was what he meant.

'No tunnel. No checkpoint crossings,' Glenn said. 'What's the next plan?'

Maggie looked thoughtful. 'Has anyone tried going over the Wall? I mean, just over it?'

Daryl said, ''Course. Best way to get shot. Or blown up. Or mauled by dogs.'

Maggie paled. 'Oh.'

'We haven't really seen what's on the other side of the Wall,' Beth explained. 'A lot of the buildings overlooking the Wall have been boarded up.'

Daryl nodded. 'On the other side of the Wall they're razin' buildings and layin' sand. It's called the death strip.' He described a no-man's land of floodlights, guard towers, dogs and landmines. On the far side was a wire fence, protected by Czech hedgehogs, anti-vehicle cross-beams that could stop a tank, let alone a Lada.

They were silent for a few minutes, thinking. 'Can we dig another tunnel?' Maggie asked.

'That's my plan,' Daryl said, 'but it takes months to get it right. 'The location. The route underground. There's all this … crap down there. Pipes. Water. Cables. A goddamn mess. I had three false starts before I completed the last one. And it's gotta be secret at both ends.'

They were all silent for a while, thinking.

Beth shook her head. 'All the things I can think of just sound dangerous or silly. And not the sort of thing that just anyone could do. If you've got a lot of people who want to get across then we do need a tunnel.'

'What about the U-bahn?' Maggie asked, referring to the Berlin subway. 'That's already underground, and it used to be connected to West Berlin. Can you break through again somehow?'

Daryl's eyes lit up, and his hand caressed the short beard on his chin, thinking. 'That could work. I could get the blueprints maybe …' He grinned and said, 'Merry goddamn Christmas, Maggie.' He leaned across to her and clinked his mug against hers.

Maggie grinned happily. 'I'll make a spy yet. I wonder if I'll make a chef, too? I'll fetch the apple strudel.' Glenn went with her.

Daryl moved across to where Beth was sitting and offered her a cigarette. 'Blake told you about the escape?' he asked, fiddling with the cigarette lighter, turning it round and round in his hands.

She nodded, looking at the glowing tip of her cigarette. For some reason she didn't want to tell him about going to Blake's apartment. About the conversation they'd shared. She knew the man was bad news, and he was a liar. But she knew how it would sound – almost cosy.

'He was real talkative yesterday. Told me a lot of things.'

'Yeah? Like what?'

She gave a half shrug. 'The war. His past.' She turned to look at him. His face was expressionless, but he was watchful. 'He lied to me about Ana. Said she had a gun and she'd shot at his men, so they had to shoot at her.'

Daryl muttered under his breath a few choice words to show what he thought about that. They were sitting in silence when Maggie and Glenn came back with the strudel. Maggie saw their serious faces. 'What's up?'

Beth glanced at Daryl, but he wasn't saying anything. 'I was at the commandant's apartment last night.' Rip off the band-aid. 'He told me what he'd done in the war. Why he was in the Stasi. And he lied to me about why Ana died.'

She felt three pairs of eyes on her. Surprised looks from Maggie and Glenn. A seething one from Daryl. He had every reason to hate the Stasi but he seemed to dislike Blake more than the rest.

Beth gave them a truncated version of what he'd told her.

'How awful,' Maggie said, pushing her strudel around her plate. 'To lose his girlfriend and his baby that way.'

Daryl muttered something about the bathroom and left the room. Glenn went to get more Glühwein for them all.

Maggie raised her eyebrows and then scooted across to sit next to Beth. 'What's up with Daryl? He's been looking at you all night, and just now he looked like he could commit a murder.'

Beth bit her lip. 'Maggie, I didn't tell you about this, but the commandant … I walked in on him and Lori. The other secretary.'

'Yeah. So?'

'I mean, I walked _in_ on them. In his office.' She made _you know_ gesture with her hand.

Realisation dawned on Maggie's face. Then horror. 'Oh, my god. Isn't she seeing a Party member?'

Beth nodded. 'She is. He said it was a mistake. That he regrets it every day.'

Maggie shook her head, confused. 'I don't really understand. He's embarrassed?'

Beth buried her face in her sleeve, realising she was going to have to come clean about everything. 'At that party he took me too, he kissed me. I thought he was nice, then. Daryl was there, posing as a waiter. He dropped a tray of drinks on the commandant.'

'Oh, Beth.'

'And after I walked in on him and Lori she admitted that she was trying to, you know, steer him my way. Because she was too afraid to tell him to stop.'

'So now he wants …' Maggie broke off, appalled. 'Beth, you've gotta leave that job. If Blake's set his sights on you then you're in trouble.'

'But what if I can do some good by working at Stasi Headquarters? I can find out things. I was able to tell Daryl that they weren't expecting Ana to escape. I'm on the inside. That's the only reason why I haven't quit already. And Blake …' She was going to say she could handle Blake. But could she?

Daryl was standing in the doorway, leaning against the door jam, fists deep in his trouser pockets and an unreadable expression in his eyes.

No, not quite unreadable. Beth knew what they said.

 _You're out of your depth, factory girl._

…

'Did you get it?'

Rick's jaw clenched. 'You better have a good goddamn reason for asking for a thang like this. I could get thrown into prison.' He pulled a manila folder out of his jacket and passed it to Daryl.

They were in a dark corner of Schwarzer Samt. Daryl took the folder from Rick and rifled through it. It was Blake's personnel file. 'You sure you got all of it?'

'Everything. Left a bunch of old memos in the file to bulk it out. Hope nobody notices before I put the real papers back.'

'There ain't much here,' Daryl muttered. An application to join the Stasi in 1947. A security clearance from 1948 and again in 1955. Most of the papers were dated from during the war: medical reports, a POW debriefing, a glossy black-and-white photograph of a very young Blake in the uniform of a Wehrmacht Hauptmann. Daryl leafed through the documents, becoming more disappointed as he glanced over them. It was exactly what Blake had told Beth. He didn't know what he'd wanted to find, but it wasn't this.

'Why do you even want to know about Blake's past? What he did in the war doesn't matter now.'

Daryl kept going through the file. At the very back of the file was a security report on Blake and a Jewish woman called Hannah Klein. In cold, bureaucratic typeface, he read about the woman's death with her child at Dachau, and that Blake attributed their death to fascism. _As a result, the subject of this report is unlikely to waver from his long-held belief in communism. He is considered to be a trusted member of the Stasi and should be given every chance for promotion._

There was a photograph dated 1941, obviously taken without the subjects' knowledge. Daryl looked at it and his heart sank. He held it up to Rick.

Rick peered at it. 'Oh, hell no.'

Daryl rubbed a hand over his face, thinking. He hadn't told Rick about Lori and Blake. He didn't want to, but if Rick was to understand everything then he would have to know. He asked, 'What's your opinion on Blake? As a man, not a Stasi officer.'

Rick shrugged. 'Like anyone else's. He's reserved. A little unpredictable. A workaholic. But decent enough. I don't know him that well.'

'So you don't know he's fuckin' Lori?' Daryl didn't mean to put it quite so crudely but Rick's description of 'decent enough' made him see red. What was wrong with people? The man was a sociopath and no one seemed to see it but him. Blake smiled with his mouth, but his eyes stayed cold.

Rick's eyes went wide. 'What?'

'Beth walked in on them in his office. He had her over the desk.'

Rick sat back, shaking his head. He looked so lost that Daryl felt a stab of guilt. 'Sorry, man,' Daryl muttered. 'Didn't mean to just come out with it like that.'

'Does Lori … I thought she and Shane …'

'Yeah, Lori's with Shane.'

Rick looked like he was going to be sick. 'Blake is forcin' her? Why didn't she come to me?'

Daryl shook his head. 'Not like that. Not usin' force. But makin' her think that she had to do it, for her job.'

Rick groaned and put his head in his hands. 'The Lori I knew would never put up with that. She changed when we broke up. Became so shallow. She's hidin' away in this make-believe world and I can't reach her.' He looked up, his eyes red-rimmed. 'I still love her, you know.'

Daryl felt for Rick, but he didn't like Lori and this wasn't about her. This was about Blake, and about Beth. He lit a cigarette. 'I've spent some time watchin' Blake since the Wall went up. He ain't got friends. He ain't had one woman up to his apartment that I've seen.'

Rick frowned. 'Well, we know why if Lori –'

'He took Beth up there two nights ago.'

Rick was startled. 'Christ. How old is she? Eighteen?'

Daryl nodded. 'Yeah. But she's smart. She's seen what Blake's like with women. He's lied to her face about a friend of hers that was shot by border guards. But if he's set his sights on her, and I think he has …' He shoved the file across to Rick and held the photograph up. 'Mind if I keep this?'

'Sure, go ahead.'

'Thanks.' Daryl stabbed his cigarette out and put the photograph in his coat pocket.

Rick looked up at Daryl when he stood to leave. 'Daryl. What is she to you? I mean, I saw you both when I got you back from West Berlin. Somethin's happened between you two since I met her at the party.'

Daryl shook his head, shrugging. The way he'd described Blake he could almost use to describe himself. He hadn't let anyone close to him since Merle. There'd been no women in his life. Rick was almost a friend, but their relationship was more about work. They didn't talk about life, or right and wrong, and share their successes and failures. Beth, though … she was something else to him. Something more.

'She's my friend, Rick.'

…

'Oh good. You're alive. That's all I wanted to know.' Beth turned on her heel and marched to the stairs.

'Beth! Wait.' Daryl ran after her out of his apartment and her and caught her arm. It had been a week after he'd been at Schwarzer Samt with Rick and he hadn't seen Beth since. He was supposed to have brought the U-bahn schematics over to her place days ago but he hadn't been able to face her.

He got in front of her before she reached the stairs. She tried to side-step him and move past him but he wouldn't let her, trying to meet her gaze. 'Beth, I'm sorry. Come inside, please.'

She glared at his chest, then raised her eyes to his face. 'What the hell, Daryl?'

'You have every right to be mad. Come in and let me explain. Please.'

She groaned, exasperated, and followed him inside. He lit a cigarette and paced around the floor while she watched from near the door, arms folded.

'I'm waiting,' she said.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his pinkie. 'I'm goin' out of my mind, Beth. I ain't had a partner before. I've always been on my own. Or with Merle, but that don't count for anything now.'

In spite of herself, Beth gave a crooked half-smile. 'I'm your partner? We in one of those spaghetti westerns?'

'I ain't kiddin', Beth. This is fuckin' serious.' He glared at her, blue eyes flashing.

She dropped the smile. 'Sorry.'

'All of a sudden I ain't just thinkin' about me anymore. I'm thinkin' about you. You in that place, near him all day. I can't stand it.'

Beth had never seen him like this before. He was jangly, gesturing with his cigarette as he talked.

'I been avoiding you 'cos all I want to do is tell you that I don't want you workin' for him anymore. Tell you that you can't. I won't have it. You're done.' He breathed out hard through his nose, looking her in the eye. ''Cept I don't tell women what they can and can't do. You ain't beholden to me. I keep tellin' myself that. But it ain't. Helpin'.' With those words he gestured forcefully at the floor, twice.

Beth thought about this for a moment. She'd seen he could be the protective type. He'd taken it hard when Ana had died, and he'd been furious when he'd caught Blake kissing her. She'd just explain that she wasn't in any danger and he'd see sense.

'It's a good job, Daryl, and I don't mean the typing and the stockings. You know it could be real useful to us, me working there. And Blake doesn't want to hurt me. He's creepy and he's power-hungry, but he's never laid a hand on me that I didn't let him put there.'

Daryl flinched at that and looked away. 'You think that thing he had with Lori was about lust? Sex? That was about power. He was nailin' her because he could and she had no choice. So he could gloat about what he was doin' to her. What he was doing to Walsh. That's some fuckin' psycho bullshit and it's near enough rape to me. It ain't gonna take much for him to cross the line.'

Beth had never thought about it like that before and it shocked her. She hated what Blake had done to Lori, but she'd never considered it as abusive. She saw that Daryl was right. She was pretty sure Blake was going to try and persuade her to sleep with him – that was what all that talking had been for. Showing her his softer side. His sad past. But if he couldn't persuade her, would he really force her? 'You think he's going to hurt me?'

Daryl shoved the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, went to a chest of drawers and yanked one open. He sorted through a pile of papers and pulled out a photograph. He held it out to her. 'Here. Take it.'

The photograph was an eight by ten black-and-white and showed a couple in a park. She recognised Blake, younger and in a German army uniform. There was a young woman with him, slender and blonde, and he had his arm around her, smiling down at her. A smile that she didn't think she'd ever seen on his face before, except perhaps when he'd played that record for her.

Beth took a closer look at the woman. 'Oh my god, Daryl. She looks exactly like me.' Beth looked up at him, and Daryl nodded.

'Yeah,' he said, voice husky.

'Is this Hannah? Where did you get this?'

'Don't matter where I got it. Gives me the fuckin' creeps, though.'

It gave Beth the creeps, too. She put the photo on the chest of drawers, face down, running her conversation with Blake through her mind again. Had there been and undercurrent of meaning that she hadn't picked up on? 'He said he hadn't touched Lori since I walked in on them,' she murmured, thinking aloud, 'and then he asked me, "Does that help?"'

Daryl ground his cigarette out. 'Beth, we can't just pretend like he's harmless anymore. I want you to go across the Wall. Tonight.'

…

 **What do you think, is Daryl right? Should Beth leave East Berlin?**

…

 **And on a lighter note …**

 **I could not resist having Rick say 'thang'! There's a video on youtube that shows every time he says 'thang' on TWD and it cracks me up every time.**

 **Now I'm thinking of my favourite TWD fan vids ... Search for 'Daryl Dixon Thrift Shop'. Hilarious AND sexy.**

 **And finally Bad Lip Reading. The one called 'MORE WALKING (AND TALKING) DEAD: PART 1' has Bethyl scenes from 'Still' and 'Alone' that turns them from heart-breaking into funny! And we could all use a laugh after watching those eps :(**

 **'I hate that freakin' turtle!'**

 **'His name's ANTHONY.'**

 **'Well I might just do an evil drive-by on Anthony!'**


	14. Chapter 14

**Google 'Norman Reedus snow'. The black-and-white black jacket/black shirt shots have been my inspiration for East Berlin Daryl.**

…

'Someone's in immediate danger, I get them out right away. That's always been my rule.'

Daryl could see from the mutinous expression on her face that Beth didn't much like him talking about what _he_ did and _his_ rules. Tough. She consistently underrated the danger of a given situation, especially when it came to Blake. It was time someone straightened this mess out.

'So I'm supposed to just leave Maggie and Glenn without even saying goodbye?'

'I'll get them out too, right after you. Tomorrow.'

'How Daryl? You haven't got a tunnel. It's dangerous to act without thinking, you know that. And what about my brother? My daddy?'

She was just making excuses. None of this mattered when compared to the very real danger of Blake. 'What about them?' he asked. 'What would they think of the position that you've got yourself in? They'd want you as far away from that man as I do.'

She folded her arms and fumed, leaning back against the chest of drawers. 'I didn't ask for any of this. I let him kiss me, but I didn't want to work for him in the first place and it's not my fault I remind him of his dead girlfriend.'

'I know, Beth. It ain't fair. Life ain't fair, 'specially not this side of the Wall.'

She lifted her eyes to his. 'And you? I'm supposed to do without you, too?'

He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and shrugged. 'Did all right before you met me.'

'I don't want to,' she whispered. 'We were supposed to be in this together, remember?'

The silence stretched between them. It was killing him, the thought of her going over the Wall without him. Being lost to him. He wanted to say that he'd go with her, but there were people relying on him. He might be ready to join her in a month, two months, but what about the people he met in the meantime? The ones who were friends or sisters or cousins of the ones he was getting out? What was he supposed to say to them, that they were on their own now?

'Beth, doin' this gives my life purpose. I ain't ever had purpose before, and I can't give it up. Some people just ain't safe this side of the Wall, and you're one of them. So I gotta get you out.'

She came toward him. He moved back, but there wasn't much space.

'Say you need me.'

He shook his head, looking at his feet, his hair falling in front of his face.

'Say you need me, Daryl.' When he didn't answer she punched him on the arm, her small fist against his bicep. 'Say you need me, and I ain't talking about the Wall.'

'I need you,' he ground out, like she'd dragged it out of him, kicking and screaming. He lifted his head and glared at her, as if he'd just told her he hated her instead. He did need her, and it was goddamn scary because he hadn't needed anyone in such a long time. Getting people over the Wall gave him purpose, but she made it a life.

'Remember that first time we saw each other?' she asked.

He nodded. He remembered the girl he'd ran into in the road, slender in his arms, those big blue eyes captivating him, making him forget about everything else. He put a hand to her waist now, feeling it against his palm just as he had then. Remembering what it had felt like. Remembering what seeing her pretty face did to him every time he saw her. Remembering how her bravery buoyed him up, made him want to keep going, even through all the shit.

He knew what Blake wanted from Beth. A second chance. He might hate the man, but he understood him in one sense. You suffer a loss, you do some terrible things, and then there's this girl breathing sunshine and fearlessness all over your life and you want it for yourself. You want to hold it in your hands, drink it up.

She drifted closer to him, and his other hand came up. He was holding onto her now, feeling her curves beneath his fingers.

'Yeah, I do,' he murmured. His hands tightened on her waist.

'Daryl,' she whispered. 'Would you kiss me? Please?'

He raised his eyes and saw her pink lips parted, not more than a few inches from his own. She was so pretty, so unspoilt. What was he? Rough. Dirty. Unkempt. Shouldn't even be touching her but she felt so damn good.

Her hands ran up his chest and to the back of his neck. Smooth, soft fingers, tangling in his hair. Still he didn't kiss her, but he could feel himself wanting to more with every caress. This was where she should be, in the circle of his arms, her breath shallow and light against his cheek. Not out there. Not in Blake's office. Not on the other side of that fuckin' Wall. Here. It wasn't right. But he couldn't think of another way that she'd be safe.

Daryl looked at her lips. He moved in closer to kiss her, but something wasn't right. Then he remember what. He walked her back a few steps, swept an armload of detritus from the chest of drawers and lifted her easily onto them. She looked at him in surprise.

'I ain't kissin' you,' he growled, 'in those goddamn stockings.' He put his hands on her thighs and looked her in the eyes, waiting.

She nodded. He eased back her skirt, feeling for her suspender belt, his eyes never leaving her face. Her cheeks were turning pink and her eyes growing dark. He felt the front fastenings and flipped them open with his thumbs. His fingers slipped underneath her thighs and took care of the back fasteners too.

In one long, slow motion he pulled the stockings down her legs. Her high heels clattered to the floor. The gossamer skins he laid carefully aside.

His hands returned to her thighs and caressed her skin. It was softer than any silk. His mouth was so close to hers, her rapid breaths fanning his face. God, she was perfect. He reached a hand round to her behind and pulled her tightly against his hips. Her ankles crossed at the small of his back, her bare thighs tight around him.

He moved close to her, his lips barely an inch from hers, and he breathed her in. Just his. Just for a moment, their arms around each other.

'Daryl, please –'

His lips touched hers. Softly, barely grazing them. Then harder, his mouth parting her lips. His tongue sought hers, needing more of her, and she gasped against his mouth. She was so supple in his arms, so responsive.

Screw standing up. He carried her, just as she was, over to his bed and lay down with her. Just for a few minutes. He wouldn't take her clothes off. He just needed to feel her against him, and let the whole goddamn world go away for a while.

He pulled back for a moment, looking at her face. She was flushed, wide eyed. She could probably feel the thick rod of his hardness against her thigh. He was right, as a moment later her hand caressed him, and then it moved to the button of his trousers. Goddamn, she was a bold little thing. He stopped her. 'No. Let's keep our clothes on.'

She bit her lip and nodded. Her hand slid up under his shirt, across his belly to his chest. His hand was between her parted thighs and he stroked the soft skin there. And felt a sudden, overwhelming desire to know if she was wet. If she wanted him as much as he did her. His thumb pressed up and over the fabric of her underwear. It was slick beneath his touch and she moaned, her head falling back. Jesus Christ. She _was_ wet. He found the hard nub of her clit and stroked over it in circles and she panted. He could just –

 _Fuck_. What was he doing? He sat up and raked a hand through his hair.

'Daryl?' Beth's hands reached up and cupped the sides of his face. She sat up and kissed him, drawing her down to him. He went with her, his hands on her body seeking out her breasts, the buttons on her clothes. Getting her beneath him, sliding a knee between her thighs so he could –

Goddamn. They were getting carried away.

He sat up again. 'All right. Okay. Time to get up.' He levered himself off the bed and stood, looking around, then down at her, breathing hard.

Beth sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. Looking so goddamn cute with her bare legs and her mussed hair.

She looked up at him. 'Daryl, I'm going to need a gun.'

…

'What? You need a what now?' He looked around the room again as if he couldn't remember where he was.

'I need a gun. If I'm going to stay I need a way of protecting myself.'

He looked bewildered. 'Stay? What?'

Beth bit back a smile. She'd completely disoriented him. She'd felt the same way while he was kissing her but her head had cleared the instant he'd stood up. Her face felt hot and there was a throbbing between her thighs. A throbbing that she knew he could have done something about if he'd just kept doing whatever it was he'd been doing with his fingers, or whatever he'd been about to do right before he'd stood up. But she had all her wits about her just the same.

He put his fingers to his temples and took a deep breath. 'How _do_ women do that?' He reached for his cigarettes, lit one for her and one for himself, and then sat down on the bed, several feet from Beth.

Beth laughed. 'Do what?'

He gestured wildly with one hand. 'Hold a rational fuckin' conversation a split second after … that. Back up a second, girl. You want a gun?'

She nodded. 'I want a gun, and I want you to show me how to use it. I need it in case Blake gets carried away with nostalgia for Hannah.'

'You're goin' over the Wall,' he growled.

'No I'm not. Not after you kissed me like that. Are you crazy? I'm staying here with you, and we're doing this together.'

He stared at her. 'You don't just get to decide –'

'Well, neither do you,' she said, and her mutinous look was back.

They smoked their cigarettes in silence.

'Fuckin' tricked me,' he muttered.

'Oh, yes?' she asked, amused.

'Thought it was a goodbye kiss.'

She scooted closer to him and pressed her side against his. She leaned her head on his shoulder, loving the feel of his body. He was broad and strong, and moved with instinct. Whether he was walking down the street or smoking a cigarette or kissing her. She knew she was safe with him. If he'd stripped her bare and made love to her right then she would have let him, knowing that he would have been careful with her. 'It sort of was,' she whispered. 'But I changed my mind.'

'Sure did a hell of a lot of thinkin' while I was kissing you,' he said, annoyed. 'Stayin'. Guns. I was busy just kissin', that's all I can say.'

She laughed, shaking against him.

'Troublemaker,' he muttered, stabbing his cigarette out. 'Come on. I'll walk you home.'

…

 **A short chapter today as I ran out of time, but can we all just savour the fact that, for the moment, all is kinda nice with Beth and Daryl?**

 ***takes a moment***

 ***savours***

 ***thinks about the delights of wearing silk stockings around Daryl Dixon***

 **Drama, doom and death to resume shortly.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Dear Diary,**

 **Last night I went to see David Morrissey (The Governor) in _Hangmen_ in London, and it was AMAZING. I was sitting very close to the stage in a box and could see everything up close. David was superb, and so was the play, the set and the other actors. But the most amazing thing of all was that David looked at me FOUR TIMES. Twice really briefly at the start but then more definitely at the end. A few minutes before the end I laughed at one of the jokes and he looked up at me, and then during the curtain call he turned his head and looked right at me! Smiling! I just died. I said to my boyfriend that he'd looked at me as we were filing out and he said 'Was one of the times during the curtain call?' 'YES. YOU NOTICED TOO!' (My boyfriend and I both have silly celebrity crushes so he didn't mind all my swooning!)**

 **Uh. I can barely concentrate to finish writing this chapter. Still swooning.**

 **But on we go, and at the end, look out for a link to some FAN ART for this story of the commandant and Beth drawn by the amazing Nine Bright Shiners! Thank you so much!**

…

Shane was on his way home when he spied someone he knew. Wasn't that Blake's blonde bit of stuff, the girl he'd taken to the party? He looked again. Yes it was, and she was on the arm of another man. They were smiling and talking. As Shane watched, the pair stopped in a doorway and embraced. Walsh, curious, stepped into the shadows. He watched them kiss for several minutes before finally breaking apart, and then the girl disappeared inside the building. The man, tall, though not quite as tall as he and Blake, had scruffy hair and clothes. He stayed where he was for several moments, as if waiting to see she got safely inside, and then slipped away back the direction they'd come.

Shane chuckled to himself and kept walking. He'd noticed the way Blake had looked at his pretty secretary. The commandant wanted Beth for himself. How was he going to react, Shane wondered, when he found out she was with someone else?

…

 _"GUNTER" arrived home at 19:40 with "ISABELLA". They discussed the most recent escapes via Checkpoint Charlie and decided that the two attempts were unrelated._

 _Mention was made of "ISABELLA'S" ex-husband, "PARTY MEMBER 52"._

 _Then conversation continued along domestic lines._

 _They retired at 22:25 and presumably had intercourse._

 _Nothing further of interest this night._

Blake put down the report. He'd ordered Comrade Walsh's, or "GUNTER's", apartment be bugged the morning after Beth had told him she'd seen him with Conrad. He didn't exactly suspect Walsh of being a traitor, but he was a thorough man and he wanted to follow up on the lead. There might be a good reason for Walsh talking to Conrad. Then again, there might not.

But he had to be careful. It could cause him a great deal of trouble if it got out that he'd bugged a Party member's apartment, and on such stingy evidence. The Party were the only people who had any power over him, and Walsh would not take the invasion of his privacy lightly. Blake's reasoning was two-fold: he had a desire to know everything on a professional level, but it was personal as well. If Walsh, the closest thing he had to a friend, couldn't be trusted, he wanted to know about it.

It amused Blake that Walsh and "ISABELLA" seemed to be proceeding with their relationship. Lori couldn't have told him about all the ways she was pleasing her commandant. Or had been. He hadn't had any release in over a week and was starting to notice the effects, but if he told Lori to stay late so he could fuck her it would get back to Beth. Why must women tell each other everything?

He put the folder with the report on Walsh aside and called Beth into his office.

'Beth, I have some good news for you,' he said, when Beth was seated in front of his desk. She looked pretty and serene in a pale blue blouse. It brought out the deeper blue of her eyes. Hannah'd had eyes just like that, and he remembered with a flash holding the girl in his arms, naked after love-making, her looking at him with eyes just like that. He would see Beth looking up at him like that. He would know that feeling again.

Blake made himself smile. 'I have arranged for you and your siblings to visit your father in prison.'

Beth's eyes widened. 'He is in prison, then? He's been charged and convicted of a crime?'

Blake squashed a flicker of irritation. Could she not simply be grateful to him instead of ask so many questions? He pretended to consult Hershel Greene's file that he had on his desk. 'Yes, it appears he was convicted of … propaganda offenses and incitement of hatred.'

Beth thought about this. 'My father never hated anyone. Against whom was he inciting hatred?'

Blake closed the file and clasped his large hands atop it. 'Against the Party, one presumes. Beth, it's a very serious charge, and one that was upheld in court. We never know our loved ones as well as we think we do …' He trailed off, hoping she'd fill in the gaps herself and stop asking questions.

She looked down at her hands. 'How many years was he given?' she asked in a small voice.

 _Long enough that he will die in prison._ 'Fifteen years, Beth,' he said, as gently as he could manage.

She squeezed her eyes shut. He wanted to go around his desk and comfort her, but he was certain she would refuse. Instead, he offered his handkerchief over the desk. She shook her head.

'This letter will get you and your siblings into Hohenschönhausen.' He picked up a letter and tapped it against his palm. 'This isn't typical, Beth. I'm doing you a favour, and one that I don't think I will be able to repeat for you. Inmates of the prison are among the worst East German traitors. They are rarely allowed visitors.'

Beth nodded, and he handed her the letter.

'Go now,' he said, looking at the clock on the wall. It was just after ten in the morning. 'I'll call your siblings' places of work and have them released for the day. They will meet you at the gates. There's a map in the envelope that shows you how to get there.'

…

Beth had been waiting at the gates of Hohenschönhausen Prison for nearly thirty minutes when she saw Maggie hurrying toward her. She was flushed with exertion and her eyes were wide.

'What's happening? Is daddy being released?'

Beth's smile faltered. She'd just been about to tell her sister the good news – that they were allowed to see him finally – but now she was going to dash Maggie's hopes instead. 'Oh – no. We're visiting him. Just this once.'

Maggie's face fell. She looked at the prison behind Beth. It was made of brown breezeblocks topped with barbed wire fences, and guard towers posted every few dozen metres. Maggie sighed. 'Oh – I'd hoped … Never mind. It took me ages to find this place. Did you know it's not on any maps? It's greyed out, like it doesn't exist. I had to keep asking directions.'

Beth looked up at the walls. Why did the Stasi feel the need to deny the existence of this place? Was it because the people in there were so dangerous, or because of the things that went on in there?

They waited another thirty minutes but Shawn didn't appear. 'Maybe he wasn't allowed to leave his post,' Beth said, stamping her feet. They were numb with cold.

Maggie was less optimistic. 'Or maybe he didn't want to. You know he thinks daddy is a traitor. Come on, let's go inside.'

Beth took out the commandant's letter and showed it to the guards at the gate. Both girls were looked over with suspicion and told to wait. After another thirty minutes two heavyset women with hard looks and unforgiving hairstyles took them by the arms and marched them inside. They were taken separately into small rooms and told to strip.

Beth laughed, a nervous bray, thinking she'd misheard. The grim woman wasn't laughing. 'I'm just here to visit my father,' Beth explained.

'Strip,' the woman said again.

A few minutes later Beth stood, barefoot and shivering on the linoleum, in her bra and knickers.

'Everything,' the woman barked.

 _Whatever you have to endure_ , Beth told herself, _daddy's had a thousand times worse._

When she was naked, her hands clasped about herself and goose bumps covering her body, the woman produced a clipboard and began a staccato of questions. 'Name? Address? Date of birth? Medications? Medical conditions? Parents' names? Addresses? Party affiliations? Criminal convictions?'

Finally, when Beth thought she was turning blue, the questions stopped and she was told to get dressed. The woman left the room. Beth wondered why on earth she'd had to be naked for that. Neither she nor her clothes had been searched.

When she had dressed Beth went outside and found Maggie. She could tell from the look of quiet horror on her face that she'd been subjected to the same induction.

They were taken deeper into the prison. The only windows were small, high up, and barred. The surfaces were unfinished concrete, and the air was filled with the stench of disinfectant and misery. They passed through metal gate after metal gate, each one guarded and locked behind them.

Beth gave Maggie a worried look. They were deep inside the prison now. Down distant corridors she thought they heard the echo of voices or the clang of a heavy metal door.

'Wait here,' the woman who'd questioned Beth told them, and they waited again, this time outside an unmarked door.

Several minutes later it was opened. A large man in a guard's uniform look at the girls and asked their names, and then stood back to allow them inside.

'Daddy!' Both girls hurried into the room.

Hershel sat at a metal table inside a small, artificially lit room. His beard and hair had been shaved off, and he looked up at his daughters for several moments like he didn't recognise them.

Beth went to hug him but was prevented by the guards. They were told to sit in the chairs. They sat, looking at Hershel's manacled hands that were chained to the table top. Beth noticed that the table was bolted to the floor.

She turned to the guard. 'Can't you uncuff him, just for a moment? We went through so many locked gates. You know he isn't going anywhere.'

The guard ignored her, his eyes fixed on a spot over her head.

Beth sighed. 'Daddy, how are you? The commandant said you've been convicted, but we weren't even told you had a court date.'

Hershel looked back and forth between his daughters, his eyes hollow and tired, but a smile beginning to twist at his mouth, as if he'd forgotten how. 'My girls,' he said in a shaky voice. 'How beautiful you are, my girls.'

Maggie leaned forward. 'Daddy, what's happened to you? We haven't been told anything.'

Hershel was silent for so long Beth thought he wasn't going to answer.

'We shouldn't talk about that,' Hershel said finally. 'There isn't anything to be done. It's all right, my girls.'

Beth felt her chest tighten. What was he talking about? He was being kept in here like an animal in a cage. Her father wasn't a criminal.

'Beth said that you were charged with political crimes. You never did anything illegal in your life.'

Hershel ignored the question. 'How's Shawn? How's my son?'

The girls exchanged glances. 'He couldn't come,' Maggie said. 'But we think about you every day. All of us.'

Hershel nodded. 'You girls promise me something.'

'Anything, daddy,' Beth said.

He looked between them for a long time. 'You girls gotta keep yourself safe. You gotta to look forward to the future, not backward. And you can't let yourself worry about me. It's all right, my darlins'.'

Beth stared at him. It wasn't all right. It was so far from all right, him in here, beaten down, looking smaller and more alone than she'd ever seen him in her life. He was her father. He was the strong one. The one who looked after the rest of them, and he was in here for no good reason. Beth felt tears slip down her cheeks.

'How is it, daddy? How is it all right?' Maggie's voice cracked, and she was crying too. They couldn't hold Hershel's hands so they held each other's.

Hershel took a long, slow breath. 'It's all, all right.'

…

Maggie and Beth walked stiffly arm in arm away from the prison, neither of them speaking. When they'd turned a corner and left it far behind them Maggie pulled away and let out a long, agonised cry, bending over. It was a cry of grief and anger, but mostly of frustration.

'How can he tell us it's all right? It's not fucking all right!' Maggie said, straightening up.

Beth, as angry as Maggie was, shook her head. Maggie had said all along that daddy wasn't getting out. Beth wondered if she'd imagined him as dead, not locked up, which might have made things easier for her. Dead might be better than in that prison. But seeing him in there brought reality into focus: daddy was in prison, and there was nothing they could do to get him out.

'This is supposed to be –' Maggie kicked the brick wall they were standing next to – 'a society. Courts! Legal process! It's not fair.'

'Maggie, keep your voice down,' Beth hissed. 'Throwing a tantrum in the street isn't going to solve anything.' She took Maggie's arm and marched her toward their flat. 'Blake's not going to help me with this. If he knows more …'

'Of course he knows more,' Maggie spat. 'He's the fucking commandant of our sector. He's probably the one who had him arrested.'

Beth pictured Blake behind his desk, calmly perusing Hershel's file, putting it away again, saying there wasn't anything to be done. She could almost see the lies hanging in the air. He knew. He knew exactly why her father was in prison. What was he hoping, that she'd see her father in that dreadful place and be ... grateful to him? Fall in love with him?

The file. The file might still be on the commandant's desk.

Beth stopped short. 'I have to go. Back to headquarters. Are you all right to get home?'

'Beth, wait. What are you going to do?'

Beth was already hurrying away. 'Daddy's file. I need to read it for myself.'

…

Beth sat in the coffee shop a few doors down from Stasi Headquarters, nursing the same cup of coffee for nearly three hours. It was on the opposite side of the street and from where she sat she could see the front entrance.

Commandant Blake left at six pm. Lori followed ten minutes later. Beth stood, paid for her coffee, and left.

At the entrance she smiled at the receptionist and headed for the lift. The sixth floor was quiet. She knew, from previous, awful experience, that the commandant didn't lock his door. Thankfully she knew both Lori and Blake had gone home. She hoped that he didn't lock his door out of carelessness, rather than because he never left sensitive items lying around.

She switched his office light on and went to the desk. There were files and letters and documents all over it. She started sorting through them, looking for the manila folder she'd seen in his hands earlier that day. She opened one.

 _"GUNTER" arrived home at 19:40 with "ISABELLA". They discussed the most recent escapes via Checkpoint Charlie and decided that the two attempts were unrelated. Mention was made of "ISABELLA'S" ex-husband, "PARTY MEMBER 52" …_

Nothing to do with Hershel. She moved on.

She opened another and there was her father's name. The first pages were his prison mugshot, identity documents, birth certificate, marriage certificate … Beth flicked through, looking for a charge sheet. Then she spied something familiar. Her mother's handwriting. It was on envelopes addressed to 'The Greenes'. They'd been posted from West Berlin.

Beth's breathing stopped. They'd never received any letters. All of the envelopes had been torn raggedly open. She pulled out a sheet of paper. It was dated three months' earlier and handwritten.

 _My darlings, I am growing worried. I haven't heard a thing from any of you. I have taken legal advice and they tell me my best chance of getting you out is to stay in West Berlin. What has happened to your father?_

 _The East German government may let you be sold to the West. I have read about it happening, for some people. You need to apply from you side of the Wall, but is it a good idea? I have heard that it may be a scam, a way of traitors to identify themselves of their own free will. There are rumours that those who apply are put in prison, or watched. I don't know what to do. Please write._

The next was dated just a fortnight earlier.

 _Please, I am desperate to hear from you. I need to know that you know I have not deserted you. I think about you every moment and I am in contact with the authorities weekly trying to get you out, but the Americans tell me there is nothing that they can do. There are so many families separated. I am losing hope. I love you, but I feel your love fading the longer this silence continues._

'Don't bother reading any more. They're all the same.'

Beth looked up at the sound of the hard, masculine voice. Blake was standing in the doorway, his arms by his sides and his chin lifted. There was an expression on his face that she'd never seen before. One of hate and menace. Perhaps a little hurt, too, and jealous possession, like he was disappointed in Beth. His Beth.

She was seeing his true face at last.

…

 **To see Nine Bright Shiners' fan art for this story, go to darkeningwater dot deviantart .com, and don't forget to leave her a comment here or on her Deviant Art page telling her what you think. The piece is titled "Beth Greene and Commandant Blake dance".**

 **Isn't it amazing? I squealed with delight when I first saw it. She's captured their likenesses so perfectly, and the Governor looks dangerously handsome in his Stasi uniform.**

 **Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone!**


	16. Chapter 16

'"Come to West Berlin. Answer my letters. Where is your father." On they go, tedious and inevitable.' The commandant closed the office door and made his way slowly toward Beth, the expression of dangerous, barely suppressed anger melting away, being replaced with one of thoughtful placidity. He put his hands in his pockets, affecting a casual attitude. But Beth wasn't fooled. She'd seen the look in his eyes a moment ago, and whatever mask he wore now, that was his true face.

Blake shook his head, coming to a stop on the other side of the desk. 'Why couldn't you be satisfied, Beth? I let you see your father. I told you there was nothing to be done for him – and there is nothing you can do. He will die in that prison.'

Beth flinched. The letter shook in Beth's hands but she forced her voice to remain steady. 'Why have we never received any of these letters? My mother thinks we have deserted her.'

The commandant shook his head. 'No, Beth. It is she who has deserted you.'

No, she hadn't. Beth had read enough to see that she was desperate to be united with her family again. Conditions were terrible in East Berlin. If she came back then she'd be trapped just like her daughters. And yet ... part of Beth wished she had come back in any case. They needed their mother.

Beth mentally shook herself. That was something she'd talk to Maggie about, not Blake. 'It is not her fault she was on the wrong side of the Wall when it went up.'

He lifted an eyebrow. 'And did she come back to you like a good East German woman would have done? Or did she stay selfishly in the West?'

'Her family is there,' Beth whispered. Her sisters. Her mother and father. It was sensible for her mother to have stayed in West Berlin and try to get her children out from there. But despite this, there was still a niggle of hurt.

Blake began to walk around the desk toward her. Beth felt a prickle go down her spine. She'd thought the emptiness of the building would work in her favour, but now she saw that it was the opposite. She was alone in Stasi Headquarters with Commandant Blake.

She backed away around the desk, keeping it between them like a shield. Was he going to attack her, hurt her, like Daryl said he would? Daryl, who'd wanted her to leave because she was in danger. Daryl, who'd kissed her and held her close and made her feel that maybe there could be true happiness in this world. She'd fought to stay here to be with him, but that had meant staying on the same side of the Wall as Blake. She didn't have a gun, and now she was alone with Blake. An angry Blake.

'It wouldn't have changed anything if we'd received her letters,' Beth said. 'We might even have been able to persuade my mother to come home.'

He gave her a tight smile. 'Perhaps.'

He was still moving toward her. She was backing away, matching his steps, and now she was closest to the door. Nothing had happened yet. Nothing needed to happen. He was pretending to be a gentleman again. She put down the letters, gave him a brittle smile and said, 'Well, goodnight, commandant.' Then she turned on her heel and walked quickly to the door.

He stopped her with a word. 'Beth.'

She halted, hearing an ominous note in his voice. She turned slowly and looked at him.

'I am a patient man, Beth,' he said, advancing toward her. 'And I am a forgiving man. But you owe me an explanation. What were you doing going through my papers?'

He had to know how threatening he looked, twice her size and with the weight of his power behind him. He had to know how afraid she was becoming. There was no innocent reason for to come into his office after hours and search through his things. Would the truth anger him, or placate him? She didn't know, and took refuge in silence.

He moved around her, placing his back against the door, blocking her exit. 'You're going to tell me. One way or another.'

There was something menacing in his face that told her it was over. His pretence of kindness. Gentleness. This was the real Blake, the one who'd screwed Lori over his desk and looked over Ana's dead body with a dispassionate glance. That other Blake who'd kissed her and told her about losing Hannah to the Nazis, was he even real? Maybe once he had been, but he'd been burned away by anger and hate. The commandant knew what she'd been looking for. Her father's file, to find out what Blake had done to her family. Why had he done it? Why imprison her good-hearted, kind father? There was no good reason. Blake had hurt them all so much. She wanted to lash out and hurt him.

'She probably couldn't believe her luck,' Beth muttered.

Blake frowned, puzzled. 'Who?'

'Hannah. When you were posted abroad.'

A split second before he back-handed her she saw his eyes go black. The blow knocked her sideways and she staggered, eyes screwed shut, her right cheek and lower lip stinging. The blow shocked her, as much for the pain of it as his reaction. She'd picked the first thing that had come into her head to try and hurt him with but hadn't expected to find her mark so swiftly. Blake had talked of Hannah as if he'd truly loved her. But maybe the worry had kept him up late at night: that she hadn't loved him. He'd never know now she was dead.

Or maybe he just resented Beth speaking so familiarly about his dead girlfriend.

'Why must women,' he growled, 'talk themselves dead?' She could barely see him through her watering eyes. 'Hmm?' he asked. 'Women cannot keep secrets, or hold their tongues, or be content with someone who can give them a good life in a cruel world. I have been here for you Beth, and yet you act like a spoiled brat.'

'You have imprisoned my father and denied me my mother,' Beth blinking away tears. 'That is not giving me a good life.'

'I let you see your father,' he yelled, letting his temper off its leash. 'I did what is right for you, and this is what you give me in return.'

 _You are doing what is right for yourself._ Beth took several deep breaths and blinked to clear her eyes. His idea of a good life and hers were very different. What did he want from her? Someone who closed her eyes to everything around her except him? Someone who was blind to the suffering he was causing her family? If she'd been more like Shawn maybe then she could, but she wasn't like her brother. She could think for herself.

Beth lifted her chin. 'What is it you want me to say? I lied to you the very first night we met, and you know that. I wasn't meeting Ana. I was protecting her from _you_. And yet you wanted me here.'

'You came,' he said, glowering. 'You wanted to get out of that factory. I did that for you.'

Did he truly believe that she'd come of her own free will? That she'd wanted to come? 'I had no choice! You have infinite power. I have none. I cannot say no to you out of fear for my life. Why don't you find someone who doesn't want to say no to you?'

He looked away, and there was grief in his eyes as well as anger.

Beth thought about the photograph of Blake and Hannah in the park. How happy they'd looked together. How eerily similar Beth and the young woman looked. The blow on her cheek was throbbing. It was Hannah Blake was really angry with, not her. 'You blame her for her death, don't you?' Beth said softly, wanting to reason with him, not anger him further. 'And your daughter's death. You think Hannah betrayed her Jewishness to someone and that's how the Nazis found her out. That's what you meant by women talking themselves dead.'

'They found out somehow,' he muttered, his hands clenched by his sides. 'She'd been living as an Aryan for years. She must have given herself away.' The hurt was raw on his face, as if Hannah had only just died. He was still angry, but Beth could sense the current changing as the hurt came to the surface. 'She let my daughter be murdered by those people. I can never forgive her.'

He hated Hannah, and yet he loved her still. Even if he wasn't a Stasi officer, even if he hadn't imprisoned her father and kept her mother's letters from her, he would never be able to make Beth or any other woman happy while he held onto so much blame.

Despite the blow, despite the fact that he'd imprisoned her father and kept her mother's letters from them, she felt pity for him. Pity that he couldn't move on. He didn't see that the Nazis had separated him from his family, and he was doing the same to families for another political cause.

She whispered, 'We can't keep seeing each other and working together. It's not my fault I look like her.'

Blake was looking beyond her, his face softened by memory and grief. A second passed in silence. Then her words seemed to sink in and he looked up at her slowly. That black look flashed in his eyes again, the look she'd seen the split-second before he'd hit her. 'How do you know what she looked like?'

Beth's breath hitched, realising her slip. 'You said. At your apartment. You know, blonde, slender.'

He straightened. Took a step toward her. 'You're lying, Beth. Don't you remember I can tell when people lie? Have you been snooping in more than just your father's file?'

She shook her head, looking at the braid on his uniform, not able to meet his eye. Her heart beat faster as she backed away. _You idiot, you little idiot._ 'I don't know what you mean.'

' _Liar!_ ' He grabbed her and pushed her onto the desk, flat on her back. Her shoulders were pinned by his hands and his body was heavy on hers. 'Stop lying to me, Beth.' His eyes were blazing with fury.

She struggled, unable to get away from him. How could she have been so stupid? She thought she was being clever, showing him the source of his anger, showing him it wasn't her he wanted an explanation from, but Hannah. 'Let go! Let go of me, please.'

He didn't seem to hear her. He spoke through gritted teeth, his blazing eyes boring into hers. 'Every day people lie to me. The man on the street. My own men. I can see it in their shifty eyes. Sometimes they're small lies and sometimes their fat, traitorous lies. People think they can outsmart me, that I won't be able to tell. But I can. Always. Tell.' He slammed her head and shoulders hard against the desk, twice, punctuating his words.

Beth fumbled about for something to hit him with. A phone receiver. A heavy book. There were only papers. Then her hand closed over something thin and metal and she stopped thinking altogether. There was just the object in her hand and Blake's murderous face a few inches from her own. She grasped the object and drove it into his face.

Blake reeled back with a scream. Something hot sprayed over Beth's face. She blinked, clearing her eyes, and saw a long, thin metal object protruding from the commandant's right eye.

 _Oh_ , Beth thought. _That's what it was._ _A letter opener, pointy end in._

And then she ran.

…

'What the fuck's goin' on?' Merle wiped sleep from his eyes and struggled toward the door in the dark. Someone was beating on the front door. Someone come to arrest him or Daryl? He almost wouldn't be surprised.

But it wasn't soldiers. It was Beth.

'Daryl,' she said, voice high and strange. 'Where's Daryl?'

'He ain't here girl. What's happened?'

She fell back a step, disappointed. She was shaking. The light from the hallway fell over her face and hands, and Merle saw she was bruised and sprayed with blood. There was more blood on her hands. Was it her blood? He didn't think so. Merle couldn't see any wounds. 'Beth, what the fuck's happened?'

But she turned and ran.

'Fuckin' wait!' he muttered, fumbling for his boots, but giving up when he heard the downstairs door slam.

…

Daryl pounded up the stairs to the Greene's apartment three at a time, adrenalin surging through him. He shouldn't have listened to Beth when she'd insisted on staying. Now something had happened to her and he knew that Blake had something to do with it. If he'd touched her – if he'd hurt her –

Daryl was going to kill him. Simple as that. That scum wouldn't draw another breath if he'd laid a hand on Beth. Blood on her, Merle had said. And frightened.

The door was unlocked. He found Maggie at the kitchen table, weeping. She looked up with a start. Her eyes we bloodshot, like she'd been crying with everything she had.

'Oh, Daryl,' she said, folding in on herself. 'You're too late. They've taken her.'

…

 **Merry Christmas everyone! I finished this while Christmas dinner was cooking. Sorry that it was such an un-cheery, un-Christmassy chapter. (OK not really sorry :D)**

 **What do you thinks going to happen next? Daryl will rescue Beth? Beth will rescue herself? Blake will let her go?**


	17. Chapter 17

'Shit. She really made a mess of you.'

Blake looked up. Comrade Walsh was standing in the hospital room doorway. He had to turn his head to see the man through his left eye. His head ached and he felt ill and groggy from the painkillers. Despite this, the doctor's news had sunk in: there was nothing to be done. He'd lost the use of his right eye.

It was a blow. He was disfigured and partially blinded. How much of an effect was it going to have on his life? There were men on the streets of East Berlin who'd been blown up in the war who lived without legs. An eye: worse, or not as bad?

More to the point, how angry was he with Beth for taking it?

Walsh was studying him with a look a pity and discomfort. Neither expressions were welcome. 'So was it missing?' Blake asked.

'Yeah, no photo. How did you know?'

Blake's teeth clenched. The fucking devious bitch. The photo of him and Hannah had been taken from his file. How had Beth even got access to his documents? Stasi officers' files were kept in a secure archive.

He let out a hard, frustrated sigh. Maybe she hadn't meant to be devious. Maybe she just wanted to be sure he was telling the truth. Beth seemed like the sort of girl who needed to know things for herself. If he'd only put Hershel Greene's files away maybe she would have started to trust him.

'She's been taken into Hohenschönhausen, like you asked. They're waitin' on you for the interrogation.'

Strangely, the news depressed him. What was there to find out from her? That she didn't trust him and that she loved her father? He'd have to sit there with not only her reproachful eyes staring back at him, but Hannah's as well. Beth had been right – he was still so angry with Hannah for getting killed. It was that anger that made him good at his job, but lousy when it came to Beth. In the moment it had felt good, back-handing her across the face like that, watching her reel. But the anger had dissipated now.

It wasn't worth his time. He'd let her sweat in there for a few more days and then send her back to the factory. If she or her brother or sister put a foot out of line for the rest of their lives he'd personally see to it that they never saw the light of day again.

And if later, he found out he was angry with her? Well, he knew where she lived. There were ways of taking revenge that didn't require the girl to be in prison.

'I haven't got the stomach for it, Walsh.'

Walsh's eyebrows went up in disbelief. 'That's the drugs talking. She took your goddamn eye.'

Blake gave him a tight smile. 'What I was doing at the time, I might have been asking for it.'

Walsh shook his head. 'You've gone soft, Blake. You gonna charge her with assault at least? No? Well, her boyfriend's gonna be real pleased, I'll bet. Her knifin' a fuckin' Stasi officer and just walking away.'

Blake's good eye narrowed. 'Her boyfriend?'

'Yeah. Some rough guy. Saw 'em kissing outside her flat the other night.' Shane grinned as he saw Blake's face darken. 'Didn't know, huh?'

Beth, kissing another man. Listening to Blake talk about his past, snooping through his things, smiling that big, innocent smile at him while another man put his filthy fucking hands on her. No boyfriend, and Beth could walk away even though she'd taken his eye. He knew what he'd been thinking about doing to her just seconds before she'd stabbed him. She'd lashed out to protect herself.

But with a boyfriend all this time? That she'd concealed from him? He imagined her in bed with this man, them laughing at him. Suddenly the events of the previous day were cast in a whole new light.

Beth was going to pay.

…

'You can't do anything. Do you understand me? Anything. You can't kill Blake. You can't get Beth out of Hohenschönhausen.'

Daryl took a vicious drag on his cigarette and stabbed it out. He glared across the booth at Rick. It was just after midday and they were in Schwarzer Samt.

How had it happened? How the fuck had it happened? Less than two nights ago he'd been kissing Beth, letting her talk him into her staying, and now just what he feared would happen had happened. He felt a terrible certainty that he'd never see Beth again. Why hadn't she stayed with fuckin' Merle? Why hadn't he been there to help her? She couldn't have been thinking clearly or she'd never have gone home.

'I'll fuckin' decide what I do,' Daryl growled. 'Now, tell me what you know. Maggie couldn't get much sense out of Beth before the soldiers came for her. Said she had a fat lip but the blood wasn't hers.'

Rick glanced around briefly, checking for eavesdroppers. His blue eyes were clear and frank. Daryl thought that that's what he liked best about the man – he wore a glass face, and his honesty shone right through. Rare fuckin' trait in a politician. 'There was an altercation between Blake and Beth at his office.'

Daryl leaned forward. 'At his office, or in his office?'

Rick's jaw pulsed, once. 'In his office.'

'I'll kill the fuckin' scumbag,' Daryl snarled. 'He tried to rape her and now he's got her prisoner in that place.'

'Blake's in hospital just now. We can't lose our heads, Daryl. We need to think, and we only have a day or so till he's discharged. How much does she know?'

Daryl tried to rein his temper in so he could think clearly. An altercation, and Beth ended up with a bruise and Blake ended up in hospital. Daryl was fiercely proud. _Good girl. You're a fighter, in more ways than one_. His heel bounced on the wooden floor and he tore a cigarette butt to shreds. 'She knows about the plan to tunnel through to West Berlin from the U-bahn. The location of one of the safe houses. Knows Merle's a Stasi spy, though a fuckin' terrible one. Knows I'm a traitor and I got a pet Party member.'

Rick twisted his mouth wryly. 'That what I am? Fuck me, the girl knows a lot, Daryl.'

'You wanna get out?' Daryl asked. 'I got some emergency plans. You ain't scared of heights, are you?'

Rick gave him a long look. 'Will you get out?'

'Leave Beth here alone? No fuckin' way.'

'Thought not. I ain't going anywhere either. We've got no reason to believe Blake's suspicious about any of that. More like he arrested her as a matter of course after she gouged his fuckin' eye out.'

Daryl smirked at that. He wished he'd been there to see it. And then finish the goddamn job.

Rick said, 'Anyone making an attempt on Blake's life or trying to get into Hohenschönhausen – and you can't get into Hohenschönhausen, I promise you – is only going to arouse his suspicions.'

Daryl's anger started to mount. He was just going to do nothing? Sit on his ass while Beth was interrogated?

'Here's what's going to happen,' Rick said. 'Blake's going to hold her for a few days, maybe a week, to scare the girl. He ain't gonna press criminal charges. If Beth's a smart girl she'll realise that's all that's going to happen.'

Daryl thought about this. Blake wouldn't like the scandal it would cause if it got out. Blake was a big man and Beth was a little thing. People would guess what had been going on, even if a judge was persuaded to rule that Beth hadn't been acting in self-defence.

And Beth's more clandestine work? Blake had no reason to suspect Beth of anything like that. A girl would stab Blake in the eye if he was trying to rape her, traitor or not.

'I don't fuckin' like it, Grimes. I ain't used to doin' nothin'.'

'Too bad, Daryl. It's what Beth needs you to do, and you're goddamn doing it.'

…

They came for Beth while Maggie was wiping the blood from her sister's face and hands: five men in brown coats, scarves and dress shoes. Men that you'd see on any street in East Berlin. Except that there was something off about these men. The cut of the clothes was oddly similar, their shoes were identical, and they all wore the same expression of grim inscrutability.

They came right into the apartment, startling the sisters. One of the men said, 'Fräulein Greene. Please come with us.' When Beth, silently accepting her fate, reached for her coat, he pulled it out of her hands and took her by the elbow.

She was escorted downstairs to a refrigeration truck. Or what was marked as a refrigeration truck. Inside were a series of wire cages over a bench seat, not big enough to stand up in, and a guard with a machine gun. Beth was locked into one of the cages and the truck door slammed shut, leaving her and the soldier in dim light.

The truck lumbered through the streets of East Berlin. It was impossible to tell where they were headed, but Beth guessed it would be Hohenschönhausen. Half an hour later when the truck stopped and she was taken out into a walled courtyard, she thought the sandy breezeblocks looked familiar.

Her induction into the prison proceeded very much as it had when she'd visited the previous day, except this time she didn't laugh when she was told to strip, and she wasn't given her clothes back. Instead she was given a blue jumpsuit to wear, photographed and fingerprinted and shunted roughly from one room to the next.

'Am I being charged with anything?' she asked the woman holding her upper arm in a cruel grip. She could see the first gate in the corridor just ahead. Surely if she was being taken into the prison proper she was being charged with something. But the woman didn't answer, only held her arm tight enough to leave bruises. Beth was marched down corridors, past heavy door after heavy door.

Finally they stopped at one. The door was opened and she was shoved inside. The door slammed shut behind her, a lock grated, and then there was the sound of footsteps walking away.

Beth looked around her. The cell was just long enough to lie down in and narrower than her arm span. There was a toilet without a seat in one corner and a strip of fluorescent light overhead. The floor was bare and concrete with nothing to sleep on or cover herself with, and there was no window.

Beth slid down the wall and wrapped her arms around her knees. It was very cold. She'd always told herself that prison wouldn't be so bad. It was just a place that would make you cold and lonely and uncomfortable, but if you were there for something you didn't regret it wouldn't be so bad.

She saw that she was a fool. It wasn't just a place. It was a state of mind. They'd dehumanised her first – taking her clothes, putting her picture and fingerprints into the system, ignoring her questions. She didn't know how long she was going to be here and what was going to happen to her. But she had all the time in the world to wonder.

…

Two meagre meals had been pushed through the door, which was her only way of gauging time passing, when it grated open. A warden came in and grasped her by the upper arm, hauling her up, not looking her in the eye or even acknowledging she was a person. Her hands were manacled in front of her.

Beth was taken down this corridor and that, through metal gates that clanged behind her. They passed a high window at one point and it looked dark outside. Was it the next evening? She'd slept a little on the cold floor, but had woken frequently when her muscles had cramped.

A door opened and she was shoved inside. A man sat at a metal table in a neatly pressed uniform. His thick, dark hair was combed, but partly covered by the bandage that wrapped around his head and covered his right eye. The other eye stared balefully up at her.

'Beth. Sit down. I think there are some things you'd like to tell me.'

…

 **You guys, did you see that there's a new TV show about spies and the Stasi and the Berlin Wall called _Deutschland 83_? It's been broadcast in the US and Ireland already (and is available to stream on Amazon US and UK) and is airing on Channel 4 in the UK from January 3. I'm so excited! If you've already seen it, let me know what you think.**

 **And what did you think of today's chapter? Rick and Daryl don't know what Shane's told Blake, that Beth has a lover. Seems like it's Daryl's turn to underestimate Blake. Uh-oh!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Thanks to some notes from Nine Bright Shiners (thank you, you rock!) I've gone back and made some edits to Chapter 16, the scene where Beth stabs Blake in the eye. He was a bit out of character and I've tied his reactions in with his back story to make it more believable. Let me know what you think if you check it out!**

 **Also, go check out Nine Bright Shiners' story _Too Far Gone_ , set just after Woodbury. Brian (the Governor) is searching for a safe place for his family, and then hears about a sanctuary called Terminus. *ominous look***

...

The interrogation went on all night. Beth knew because she watched the hands on Commandant Blake's wristwatch crawl onward. She was perched on a small rickety stool with no back to it and her hands were manacled to the table. They were alone.

The questions went on and on, going over the same ground.

 _What were you doing the night that I stopped Fräulein Mueller in the street?_

 _I was going home._

 _Why were you so late? You'd finished at the factory two hours earlier._

 _I had to queue at the butchers. There were a lot of people and not much meat._

 _Why did arrange a rendezvous with Fräulein Mueller in the street?_

 _I didn't. I lied because I was worried she would break down in front of you or say something rude. She had been distraught since her boyfriend disappeared._

 _When was the last time you saw Fräulein Mueller?_

 _Not for some time. Two weeks maybe._

 _Who were Fräulein Mueller's friends?_

 _I don't know. We weren't very close._

 _You lied for her. You must have be close._

 _We're not. I was just afraid for her because I knew she was alone._

 _You were afraid for her because of the Stasi? Why were you afraid? What are you hiding?_

Beth blinked hard, wanting to scrub a hand over her weary face. It was close to six o'clock in the morning and she was hazy with fatigue. She had to keep reminding herself that she didn't know Ana's intention to escape over the Wall, or that Conrad had escaped with Daryl's help.

Every hour or so Blake walked about the room, pacing behind her so that she couldn't see him. He seemed to show no ill-effects of the long night and hadn't muddled a question once. She was struggling to keep up.

He was seated before her now, making notes with a slim silver pen in his large hand as she talked. His uniform was immaculate, as always. A different one, she supposed, than the one he'd been wearing when she'd stabbed him in the eye. The memory of the way his eyeball had yielded to the sharp metal wasn't a fond one. Neither was imagining what would have happened if she hadn't stabbed him.

There was a large stack of files sitting to one side of the table. Beth tried not to look at them, sure he'd see a guilty expression in her eyes. Did he know that Beth was involved in Ana's escape? Was he waiting for a slip that would give Beth away, and then he'd produce photographs of her going into the safe-house? Transcripts of her conversations with Daryl? Did he know Maggie and Glenn were implicated too?

Panic rose but she tamped it down, hard. _Keep your head, Greene._ _He wants revenge for the eye. You took his eye and now he wants a reason to keep you in here, his prisoner, so he can watch you rot. He doesn't have anything on you which is why he's fixating on the only thing he does know, that you lied to him about meeting Ana in the street._

When she didn't answer, Commandant Blake looked up at Beth. There was gauze over his ruined eye and a bandage round his head. His other eye was steely blue. He tapped his pen on the pad of paper in front of him. 'Answer the question, Fräulein Greene.'

Beth's chin had begun to sink down on her chest but it reared up at the sound of his voice. She blinked to clear her eyes. 'What?'

He enunciated carefully. 'Why do you have reason to be afraid of the Stasi?'

'Because you took my father,' she muttered, 'and you locked him away.'

Blake was silent for a few minutes, watching her. Then he gathered up his things and left the room.

A few minutes later a warden came in and unchained her from the table. Beth welcomed the cold, hard grip of his hand on her upper arm. She was being taken back to her cell. Finally she could sleep.

…

The sparkplug was ancient and had practically welded itself into the socket. Daryl first tried pulling at it with pliers, then gouging at it with the pointy ends of the tool, and then finally, losing his temper, he picked up a spanner and began walloping it.

'Whoa, Daryl.' He boss strolled past. 'Take it easy.'

Daryl gripped the spanner, breathing hard. Beth had been in Hohenschönhausen for four days. Maggie had heard nothing from the authorities. Rick hadn't heard any rumours at Party headquarters, and didn't want to ask around unless it was an emergency.

It _was_ a fuckin' emergency.

Blake left his flat every evening at five p.m. and came back every morning just after 6 a.m. To sleep, Daryl presumed. Which meant he was interrogating Beth all night long. Sleep deprivation wasn't electrocution or drowning but it was torture just the same.

It wasn't just the worry about her in that place with that bastard that was getting to Daryl. Rick assured Daryl that Blake just wanted to scare Beth. He had no reason to suspect Beth of being a traitor. But she was a traitor, in their eyes, and how long would it be till she started talking just so they'd let her sleep?

…

Beth blinked her eyes slowly, like a drunkard, and her head pitched to one side. A second before the butt of the gun could slam into her kidneys she jolted upright. 'I'm awake,' she gasped, 'I'm awake.' The memory of the pain was almost as bad as the pain itself. There was a soldier standing behind her throughout Blake's interrogation at all times now, to clout her with his weapon if she fell asleep, but she was doing her job for him most of the time.

They hadn't let her sleep in days. After that first night with Blake she had been returned her to her cell, but not to sleep. She'd closed her eyes as soon as the door had slammed shut but a small partition had remained open so the guard outside could see in.

The rifle butt had rung on the metal door. 'No sleeping,' had come the guard's voice.

'What?' Beth had croaked. 'I've been awake all night. I'm so tired.'

'No sleeping.'

She'd sat up, trying to stay awake, but within ten minutes her eyes closed. The rifle butt rang on the door and she started awake. After a while she didn't hear the knocking, but she woke when the rifle slammed into her hip.

It had gone on like that all day, and all the days since. How many had it been? She'd lost count. They let her sleep for about an hour right before the interrogation started again, but it was like a single raindrop in a desert: inadequate and useless.

Blake's face swum before her eyes. He looked the same, night after night. Uniform, gauze, grim face. He must be sleeping during the day so that he was refreshed to question her at night. His eye closed, his head on a pillow in a darkened room. How she hated him for his sleep.

How long could you stay awake before you went insane or died? She'd already started hearing things during the day. People muttering in the corner. Inside the walls of her cell.

'Who is your boyfriend, Fräulein Greene?'

Beth looked up, startled. His questions had followed a distinctive pattern over the course of the interrogations: he asked her about Ana, then her mother and father, then Ana again. Back and forth. Over and over.

Her answers were the same every time. At least, she thought they were. He confused her, repeating back something she'd said but twisting it slightly, seeing if she'd notice. Or telling her she'd said something when she hadn't. Her sluggish mind struggled to keep up, but she'd developed one habit that seemed to work: talk freely about anything and everything he asked about from the time before she'd met Daryl. Deny, deny, deny everything after. And if he got too close to the truth about Ana, fall asleep and let herself get walloped by the guard.

'I don't have a boyfriend.'

Blake reached for a file, opened it, glanced over it, and put it aside once more. 'You were seen embracing a man outside your apartment.'

He gave her a time and date and she struggled to think back. It was probably the day that Daryl had walked her home. The night they'd kissed for the first time and she'd told him she was going to stay with him no matter what. What was he doing? How she missed him. Her heart ached and her eyes began to prickle with tears, so she pretended to fall asleep.

Her back exploded with pain and her eyes flew open. 'What? What was the question?'

'Who is the man you are involved with?'

'There is no man. Whoever thought they saw me must be mistaken.'

Blake clasped his hands in front of him and leaned forward. The one eye glittered. 'Who,' he said slowly, 'is the man you are involved with?'

The atmosphere in the room seemed to Beth to change. This was what Blake was really interested in. Beth wanted to laugh. Shake her head and pity him. But she had too much pity for herself. Unkind thoughts about Hannah bubbled through her mind.

 _Hannah took a lover while you were in a POW camp, a Nazi, and she exposed her Jewishness to him, by accident, or thinking that he'd protect her anyway. She screwed under your nose even when you were in Berlin. The daughter you thought was yours wasn't yours. Hannah died hating you. No, she died not even thinking about you._

The questions went on and on. When had she met this man? Where had they gone? How long had they been seeing each other? Beth denied everything.

 _There's no one but you, Phillip. When are you coming home? Please come home._

The stinging slap across her face told her she'd said it out loud.

…

Rick spotted Comrade Walsh coming down the corridor. He was getting worried about Daryl. The man wasn't going to sit tight for much longer. Shane had always had the commandant's ear, so perhaps he knew something about Beth.

'Comrade Walsh, do you have a moment?'

Walsh looked at Rick coolly, with the air of someone who was very busy but could spare a moment for a less fortunate man. Rick's jaw clenched with annoyance. He might have Lori, but he didn't have her like Rick had had her. As a wife. As someone who loved him. Lori didn't love Walsh, he could see it in her eyes. 'I've been trying to track down Blake. He's not at his office.'

Walsh smirked. 'He's interrogatin' a suspect at the Stasi prison. Remember that blonde girl he was with at the birthday party? She didn't take kindly to his advances and stabbed him in the eye. And turns out she had a boyfriend all the while she was leadin' him on.'

Rick tried not to show the alarm he felt. Goddamn. Someone had seen her with Daryl. _Goddamn_. 'Yeah?' he asked, his tone mild. 'So?'

Walsh shrugged, still smiling, but moving past Rick to be on his way. 'So he's gonna throw the book at her. Anythin' shady in her life, he's gonna dig it out of her and nail her to the wall with it.'

…

'Wassis?'

Beth looked at the sheet of paper before her. It took a few tries to get the words to swim into focus. How many days had it been now? More than a week? A month? She had trouble forming complete sentences and her eyes stayed permanently at half-mast. The walls had people living in them. She'd heard them for days and now she was seeing them too. They all looked like Blake, but they sounded like her sister, her mother, Daryl.

 _I, Beth Greene, denounce my father, Hershel Greene, and my mother, Annette Greene …_

She looked up at Blake, her head listing back and forth. 'Confession?'

'No. It's a declaration to the effect that you won't apply to leave the German Democratic Republic. That you denounce both your parents as traitors. And you pledge your support to the government.'

Beth pretended to fall asleep. She was battered awake in an instant, gasping. There were bruises on her bruises.

Blake slammed his hand against the table top. 'Concentrate, Beth.' It was the first time he'd called her Beth and not Fräulein Greene since the interrogation had begun. She couldn't work out if it was a good sign or a bad sign.

There was a piece of paper in front of her. 'Wassis?'

Blake cleared his throat with irritation and told her. Oh, yes. He'd just said. He hadn't mentioned Daryl or Ana. Had she? She couldn't remember. Questions. Bruises. They all ran together.

'Denounce m'mother,' she mumbled, frowning. 'What if she comes'ome.'

'Comes home?' Blake smiled a small, unfriendly smile.

 _She'll be arrested_ , Beth thought. _You'll use this as evidence._

Blake looked at the guard and nodded to Beth's manacles. 'Undo those.' And to Beth, 'Sign it, and you can sleep.' Sleep was all she thought about.

He held out his silver pen, the one that had scribbled and tapped the way through the interrogations. His voice was silky, seductive. 'You can sleep in a proper bed, with sheets and blankets. And in a day or so when you've slept and recovered you'll be free to go.'

…


	19. Chapter 19

**Hi everyone! New readers and old :) It's so great to see how many new people have picked up this story in the last two weeks. Thank you for the follows and comments! Sorry to the original readers who were getting story update several times a week. I've slowed down to about once a week as I'm also trying to finish writing a novel. And a special shout-out to all the regular commenters. I love hearing from you!**

 **On with the story!**

...

'No. I won't do it.'

Daryl wanted to punch Rick right in his stony face. It had been nearly a week since Rick had told him to sit tight and Beth was still in prison. 'You ain't gotta do anything but get me the plans for Hohenschönhausen,' Daryl growled. 'Just like you did for the U-bahn. I'll do the rest.'

Rick leaned over the bar table and said in a harsh whisper, 'I risked my neck for you to get the U-bahn schematics because that plan's got legs. Breaking into the Stasi jail is goddamn suicide.'

Daryl clenched his fists. 'You don't know that. There might be a weakness I can spot.'

Rick slammed his tumbler of whiskey on the table. 'Listen to me. There is no weakness. The Russians built that place at the end of the war. You think they were going to risk Nazis gettin' out? No one and nothing gets in or out of that place that the Stasi don't want to. You're clever but you ain't a goddamn sorcerer.'

Daryl sat back, glaring around the bar. Why couldn't it have been him? It should be him in there facing Blake, not Beth. She hadn't even been arrested for a good fuckin' reason. It made his blood boil.

Rick took a deep breath and said, 'We all knew this was a risk when we got involved. Beth too. She wouldn't want you risking your life and everyone else in the group just for her. If you get taken in, we all go down. You'll tell. They'll make you tell.'

Over clenched teeth Daryl said, 'This has nothin' to do with the group's activities. Blake made this, not Beth.'

'You try to break in and it will be about the group. Blake'll figure out that you ain't just an angry boyfriend. Sometimes bad shit happens and you can't do anything about it.'

Daryl couldn't believe he was being fed such a stupid platitude. 'Yeah? Is that what you tell yourself when you think about Blake screwin' Lori? If it was her in there –'

Rick held up a hand. 'If it was Lori in there we would have all been arrested by now. Beth's strong. She's holdin' out against Blake. You just gotta wait.'

Daryl got up quickly, sending his chair shooting out behind him. 'I ain't waiting any longer. I'll do this with or without your help.'

Rick stood, staring at Daryl with a cold blue gaze. 'Then you and I are over.'

…

Blake held the pen out to a swaying Beth, forcing a small smile on his face. Inside he was bitter – the interrogation had not been a success. He didn't know whether that was his fault or whether Beth really had nothing to hide. He'd known from the first that she could lie more smoothly than most, but was she still lying? Her story hadn't changed over the course of a ten-day interrogation.

It was possible that Walsh had mistaken her for someone else and it hadn't been Beth kissing another man at all. Walsh'd only met her properly the once. Also, it was possible that her parents had never exhibited any traitorous tendencies in front of her. And yet … had he missed something? He had a nagging feeling that he had.

Maybe he hadn't been objective in his questions. There was a history between he and Beth, albeit a short one, and emotions too. Strong ones. Beth made him angry, nostalgic and resentful all at once. He'd tried to view her as any other political prisoner. To dehumanise her, punish her, break her. She looked awful: waxy skin, knotted hair, dark shadows under her eyes. They were bloodshot from crying, too, but she'd never cried in front of him. He wished she had. Then he could despise her for her weakness.

The oath he was asking her to sign was a sop for his vanity. He'd crafted it to make her think he'd won. By signing it she denounced her precious parents as traitors. If her mother came back to this side of the Wall she would be arrested immediately and this document would be used as evidence against her in court. It wasn't much but he would have at least this morsel of revenge.

Then he never wanted to see Beth again.

''S'Isabella next?'

Beth's words were so slurred that he wasn't sure he'd heard them right. 'Isabella?'

'Y'know. Is'bella and Gunter.'

Blake narrowed his eye at her. Isabella and Gunter. They were the codenames for Lori Grimes and Comrade Walsh. But how did Beth know that?

Of course. She'd gone through his things and seen the surveillance report. But did she know who Isabella and Gunter were?

'Isabella woon't like … here.' Beth plucked at her jumpsuit. 'No stockings.'

Blake swore under his breath. She did know. Comrade Walsh was still under surveillance and the reports had yielded nothing. If it got out that he'd had a Party member watched without good reason and without yielding any results it could be his job. The people were to be spied on and suspected, not the Party. The Party was meant to be unimpeachable.

Beth reached for his pen but he pulled it out of her grasp, thinking. Had she been sitting on this piece of leverage for ten days and said nothing about it? She could have said she knew on the first day and he would have let her go, on the condition that she said nothing to 'Isabella' about the surveillance.

But was more effective to mention it now, wasn't it, after she'd shown him she was practically a paragon of GDR virtue.

Blake ground his teeth together so hard they squeaked. He wasn't even going to have even this satisfaction. He yanked the oath out of Beth's loose grasp and tore it up.

Blake opened his mouth to congratulate Beth, but she'd fallen asleep. He looked up at the guard, who was raising his rifle to clout Beth with it, but he shook his head.

'Take her to a recovery cell,' he bit out.

…

Beth opened her eyes and felt … different. Her mind was clearer and her eyelids felt lighter. She looked around and the world was formed of hard lines and blessed, beautiful silence. She'd slept. She'd _slept_. She'd resigned herself to death or madness, but now those spectres had melted away over the dreamless hours. Her face crumpled and she cried, the first tears she'd shed in a long time that were from relief, not despair.

When she'd cried out her thanks to whatever circumstances had led her to this bed, she sat up and reached for the plastic water jug and cup on a little table. They hadn't given her much to eat or drink over the course of the interrogation. She drank until the jug was empty, and then fell back into sleep.

…

The wardens had to carry her from her cell, one arm looped over each of their shoulders, her legs shuffling near-useless between them. Sleep had brought relief from her most frightening symptoms, but her battered body had stiffened to almost rigor mortis proportions.

They dressed her roughly in the clothes she'd been wearing when she'd been arrested. She noticed the blood on the cuffs of her sleeves. The commandant's blood.

The fresh air of the prison courtyard brought tears to her eyes again and she hobbled faster with the guards' support, needing to get outside the gates. She felt like she was underwater, rushing to the surface.

And then she was outside. A large, black car was blocking her way, engine purring lightly in the cold morning air. She looked up and down the deserted street, hoping that Maggie would be there to meet her. Together they could stumble to a street with more traffic, find a cab –

But the wardens didn't left go of her. They steered her toward the black car. 'Wait – what's going on?' she protested, but they ignored her. The passenger door opened and she was pushed inside. The door slammed closed.

'Fräulein.'

Blake was in the driver's seat, inscrutable in his peaked cap, black gloved hands on the wheel.

 _No. Not him._ Beth fumbled for the door handle but Blake pressed the accelerator with a booted foot and they shot forward.

'How did you sleep?' he asked, his tone conversational as he drove.

Beth crumpled in the seat, her hopes crushed. Of course it wouldn't be as easy as that. Free to go, Maggie waiting at the gates. She didn't know what had made Blake tear that oath up but it had seemed like a miracle at the time and it clearly it was. She might be free of Hohenschönhausen but she wasn't free of Blake. Would she ever be free of Blake?

He spoke as they drove, his tone conversational, telling her the date, the time, the current events, as if she were a jetlagged émigré from a faraway land. She didn't bother to watch where they were going. Another prison? His apartment? What official or unofficial ways was he going to find to make her talk? There wasn't much strength left in her. She could already taste Maggie's and Daryl's names in her mouth. It wouldn't take much more for him to get them out of her.

So it was a surprise when the car pulled up outside her apartment block. Beth stared at the building, unable to believe it was the same one she lived in. She turned and looked at Blake. His face was inscrutable.

Beth reached for the door handle and the door opened. She struggled to get out but she every movement was painful. A few minutes later she'd only got one leg out, and then Blake was out of the car and coming round to her side.

'I can manage, just give me a moment to -'

He ignored her protest and put one arm under her shoulders and another arm under her knees and lifted her bodily out.

'Put your arm around my neck or I'll drop you,' he said into her ear as he pushed the car door closed with his foot.

Beth hooked one hand on his shoulder, not liking to embrace him but holding on just the same. He carried her to the front entrance like she was nothing, but didn't leave her there. Pushing through the front door he took her right up to the door of her flat. He didn't even have to ask which one it was.

He deposited her on the doorstep, took her bag from her and fished out her latch key. She watched as he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

There was something absurd about the situation, like he was bringing home a date or his bride, not depositing a prisoner he'd spent ten days interrogating. What was he trying to prove, she wondered? His face still revealed nothing, and she held her tongue.

Blake looked into her apartment and across to the window opposite. A section of the Wall and a guard tower were just visible across the rooftops.

He nodded to the Wall and passed the key back to her. 'You're a prisoner still,' he said, looking at her with his one good eye. 'One way or another.'

Beth crumpled against the door jam, and watched his uniformed back retreat down the corridor.

...

 **This is the last Blake chapter for a little while. I feel like Blake has driven up to my desk in his tank and demanded 'You shall put more of me in the story! MORE!' Jeez, Blake, this is Bethyl's story, not yours. Chill your commie boots. (It also might be because I no-so-secretly adore his villainous ass. If you do, too, you might be interested to know that after _They Seek Him Here_ is finished I'll be working on a Bethernor Walking Dead/Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde mash-up called _Doctor Blake and Mr Hyde_. What do you think? Let me know if you're excited for it!)**

 **And let me know what you thought of today's chapter! I love hearing from you all.**

 **Finally, if you're in the UK today is _Deutschland 83_ day! I adored the first episode. They really brought the East/West Germany divide alive. Can't wait to see what happens next! Are you watching it?**


	20. Chapter 20

**Over 200 reviews! You guys are amazing, thank you SO MUCH! I hope you like today's chapter.**

...

Three handguns and automatic rifle. Daryl surveyed them on his rickety little kitchen table.

'Fuck,' he swore, and kicked a table leg. He was just one man, and the prison had dozens of guards with Kalashnikovs. Guard towers. Fences and barricades. It wasn't going to work. Maybe if he had explosives and an armoured vehicle, a bull-dozer …

But he didn't have any of those things and Rick wasn't going to help him get them. He couldn't even get a goddamn typewriter under this regime without a permit, let alone anything that might be useful to him. And even if he could blast his way inside the prison he wouldn't know where to find Beth, and what if he hurt her or other prisoners in the attempt?

His mind turned darkly, sourly – inevitably – to Plan B. Kill Blake. Set up the rifle in a high window above the entrance to Blake's apartment and blow his brains out when he appeared. He fantasised about that constantly. It lulled him to sleep at night, the thought of the bright blood, Blake's shocked expression. The way his body would crumple, dead before he hit the ground.

But always, then what? What would happen to Beth? He'd asked himself that over and over and Maggie told him that it would only make things worse for Beth. That argument was growing thin. The Stasi wouldn't necessarily link Blake's assassination with Beth. He must have pissed loads of people off in East Berlin. And without Blake alive to hold Beth for no good fuckin' reason, she might be released. As he thought about all the days that had come and gone since Beth had been taken in, the logic of Maggie's argument suddenly snapped.

Daryl reached for the rifle. The magazine was full and he'd cleaned it thoroughly. It felt weighty in his hands. It felt good.

It was going to feel even better to kill Blake.

…

Beth was woken by someone shaking her shoulder. There was a moment of dread, a brace against pain, and then she realised she was home in her own flat and it wasn't a guard shaking her awake and about to hit her with his rifle, but Maggie.

Maggie was crying, big fat tears brimming on her eyelashes that were about to run down her face, saying, 'You're home, you're home,' over and over. Beth had fallen asleep on the sofa in the living room and she levered herself up. Maggie wrapped her arms around Beth and held her tight.

'Beth, are you all right? Maggie, stop squeezing her so tightly.' That was Glenn, hovering over Maggie's shoulder.

Maggie pulled back her eyes running over Beth. 'Did they hurt you?'

Beth gestured at her back, still feeling groggy. She didn't know how much time had passed since Blake had stopped the interrogation and let her sleep. Two days? Three?

Maggie pulled the collar of Beth's shirt back, exposing her shoulder. 'Beth. You're covered in bruises! Why –'

'To keep me awake,' Beth said, but she didn't care about that right now or being held too tightly by her sister. She was home.

Maggie and Glenn helped her to her own room and put her to bed. Maggie brought her a bowl of broth with torn up chunks of bread in it, and sat with her while she ate. 'It's last night's leftovers. I'm going to make something better for you tonight. You're so thin and pale.'

'Daryl,' Beth asked in the softest whisper she could manage. 'Is Daryl okay?'

Maggie nodded. 'As well as we all have been, which is going a little crazy worrying about you.'

'I need to –' Beth started to get out of bed.

Maggie stopped her. 'You're not going anywhere. I'll go.'

…

The rifle had been disassembled and put into his backpack. There was a handgun in there, and another tucked inside his belt, just in case he got trapped in the building and had to shoot his way out. He pulled on his black coat, and that was it. He needed surprisingly little preparation to carry out a murder.

Blake would be at the prison by now, which gave Daryl all night to scout out the perfect sniper's hole. This time tomorrow Blake would be dead, and he wasn't sure what a world without Blake would look like for him and Beth but it had to be better than it was now.

He was shrugging into his backpack when there was a knock on the door. He swore under his breath and quickly took it off again, shoved it into a corner and hid it beneath his coat.

When he opened the door he saw Maggie standing outside. He felt a lurch of fear and pulled her inside. There was a look in her eyes that told him something had changed. 'What is it? Is it Beth? What's happened?'

She clutched his forearms, her large eyes swimming with tears and he feared the worst, so it took a few seconds to realise she was saying, 'She's home, Beth's home, she was just there on the couch when I came in.'

Daryl took a step back and half-turned away, not able to believe what she was telling him, feeling too much even to form any words. He put his fingers to the back of his head, knuckling his skull.

'Is she –' His breath hitched.

'How did –'

Maggie reached up and pulled one of his arms down, holding his hand in both of hers. She spoke softly as if to a frightened animal. 'She's tired, and very thin and pale. She's barely eaten or slept in the time she's been gone. She wanted to come herself but I wouldn't let her.'

That got through to him. He turned to Maggie. 'When can I see her?'

…

Daryl sat on the sofa in the safe house, one heel bouncing up and down on the carpet, fists clenched tight. The waiting was driving him mad. This last hour was almost as bad as the fortnight Beth had been in prison, but not quite as she was free now, free and coming to him.

But what if that man stopped her, or if she wasn't strong enough to walk all this way yet and fainted in the snow, or –

A key turned in the lock and the door opened. Daryl was up like a shot and across the room. He pulled her into his arms before she'd even got the door closed. His Beth, her cheek cold against his, hot tears that tasted salty against his lips. He pulled back and wiped them away with his thumbs, looking into her blue eyes. They were as bright as ever in her thin face. She looked tired and rattled, but she was still the Beth he loved – loved? Yes, loved, and it was a shock but it wasn't a surprise – and that man hadn't broken her.

Wordlessly, Daryl helped her out of her coat and unwound the scarf from about her neck. He reached up to the collar of her plain, darned, East German-made blouse and pulled it aside.

She shrugged out of his grasp. 'Don't, Daryl.'

His hand stayed on her shoulder. 'I need to see,' he growled.

Beth hesitated, and then turned around and lifted the hem of her blouse. Daryl bit down hard on the inside of his cheek as he saw the masses of bruises, some an angry red-blue, others brown and still more a greenish-yellow. They were layered one atop the other, testament to the many days they'd been inflicted over.

He thought about the rifle in his flat and wished Maggie hadn't been quite so timely in getting news of Beth's release to him.

Beth pulled the shirt down once more and turned to him. 'It's all right, Daryl, really.'

He shook his head. 'It ain't fuckin' all right. I never liked you workin' with that man and I should have taken you over the Wall that night whether you liked it or not.'

Her blue eyes took on their stubborn look. 'It was my decision, not yours.'

'Well it should have been me, not you!'

Her eyes cleared, and she tucked her hand into his. 'I'm glad it wasn't,' she said softly.

He scowled. She shouldn't be protecting him, and being glad that she had to go through hell rather than him. This wasn't that way it was supposed to work. When the time came it was meant to be him in there, facing Blake, facing the sleep deprivation and interrogation and water torture and electrocution. Because this was his operation and he was supposed to save people, not have them suffer for him.

He led her over to the sofa, noticing how stiff she was. She'd walked all the way here like that, in pain, just to see him.

 _This girl_ , he thought, sitting down and pulling her into his lap, holding her lightly so that he wouldn't hurt her. _This girl._

…

Beth sighed and nestled into Daryl's warmth. She didn't want to think about that place or who should have been in there. She didn't want to think about that man. She just wanted to be here, in this place, with Daryl.

He lifted a hand and traced it down the side of her face, brushing back her hair. 'Didn't let myself think about you in there,' he said. He twisted one of her blonde curls in his rough fingers. 'Didn't think about your smile. Your voice. How they had you trapped like an animal. Couldn't bear it.'

There was a long silence, and then he said, 'I'm sorry.'

She put up a hand to touch his cheek. It was bristly beneath her fingers. 'You're sorry you couldn't think about me?'

He nodded, not able to meet her eyes. His hair hung in his face. 'Fuckin' won, didn't they? Took you away, and we couldn't do anythin' about it. Took you away in all the ways.'

She tucked his hair behind his ear. 'I tried not to think about you, either. I was terrified that if I thought about you too much I was going to say your name, and I knew that if I did I would never see you again.'

He gave her a long, inscrutable look.

'What is it?' she asked.

'All that he did to you. An' you didn't say a word. You're better than any of us, Beth.'

She smiled, and dropped her cheek against his shoulder. 'You didn't see me when he wasn't around. Crying, a mess.' The smile faded. 'I didn't think I was ever getting out again. Like daddy.'

He kissed the top of her head softly. 'You know I want you to go now,' he whispered into her hair.

'I know,' she said quietly. But she wasn't quite ready yet. 'The plans for the U-bahn. Did you get them from Rick?'

'I did. Reckon that's the last thing he's gonna help me with.'

'Have you done anything with them yet?'

He chuckled softly. 'Nope. Was too busy thinkin' about ways to break into Hohenschönhausen.'

Beth thought about Blake in his office, one eye concealed in bandages. She thought about her father still in that place, her mother on the other side of the Wall and Maggie and Shawn at home. She thought about Daryl, here, with his plans and schemes. None of it felt like hers any more. That place Blake had kept her prisoner had squeezed every sense of belonging and home out of her.

Blake would be keeping tabs on her everywhere she went. To the factory. To the shops. She'd feel his eye looking at her through the eyes of his spies. It would drive her insane.

But maybe there was a place where she could carve out an angry, defiant niche for herself. A place of her own making where Blake couldn't touch her.

'Daryl?' she said, lifting her head from his chest.

He looked at her, waiting.

'I'm going to have to disappear for a little while.'

...

 **Daryl, you poor love, it's so heart-wrenching to see you in pain! I am so glad that he had a little bit of happy in this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it too.**


	21. Chapter 21

The night was dark and two figures in black moved through it, keeping to the shadows. They were dangerous streets they traversed, so close to the Wall. In some places they came right up alongside it, and heard the muttering of soldiers on the other side, guarding the death strip, and the occasional yip of a dog. Every so often a patrol came by on their side of the Wall and they had to hide in alcoves or down alleyways.

'Is it very far, now?' Beth asked in a whisper.

Daryl stopped, listening. 'Hear that?' he asked in a gravelly voice. She listened, and heard the distant clack of trains crossing points.

A few minutes later they came to a train station, climbed over the barriers and through some hastily strung barbed wire. In the shadow cast by the platform, they waited. Daryl checked his watch.

'The train'll come through in six minutes. After that we've got eleven minutes to get down the tunnel and reach the first junction before another train comes through.'

Beth stared into the gaping black hole at the entrance to the U-Bahn. It had been nearly a week since she'd been released from Hohenschönhausen. She'd spent much of it alone, stretching her sore body while Maggie, Shawn and Daryl were working. There had been plenty of time to think. Plenty of time to be angry. In the evenings she and Daryl had met in the safe house to plan their next move. Maggie had wanted to come too but they all agreed it would be too dangerous for the sisters to be seen out together. It might look suspicious once Beth disappeared.

'I've worked out why he let me go,' Beth had said to him one evening. There was no need to say who 'he' was. Commandant Blake was like the spectre at the feast whenever they were together. She was loath to bring him up as she knew how even the mention of him affected Daryl. Maggie had told her he'd been on his way to assassinate Blake when she'd brought the news Beth was back. It made Beth shudder to think how close Daryl had got to murdering an important Stasi officer, and likely being caught and executed himself.

Daryl had given her a sharp look. 'Yeah?'

Beth had nodded. 'When I was looking for my daddy's file on his desk I found a report on two people called Isabella and Gunter. Remember how I told Blake I'd seen Ana's boyfriend Conrad with Comrade Walsh? He took me seriously, it seems, and bugged their apartment. I could tell it was them from what they'd been saying to each other.'

Daryl had thought about this a moment. 'Not somethin' Blake'd want to be common knowledge.'

'Exactly,' Beth had said. 'I didn't mean anything by it when I said to Blake, "Will it be Isabella next?" I just wanted him to think about the awful things that happened to the women he's been close to. I suppose he thought I was using the information to get myself released.'

Beth was pulled back to the present by the sound of a train approaching. It rushed out of the tunnel and stopped at the station. A minute later it was pulling out again, the roar of the engines loud in her ears and the wheels turning just a few feet from where they were hunched.

Daryl glanced around. The platform was deserted. 'Let's go.'

They darted into the tunnel. Beth was grateful as the darkness closed around them. When the light disappeared they flicked on their torches.

Daryl had given her the last edition of the U-Bahn schematics that had been printed in 1956. They were heading west at that moment, but the tunnels meandered beneath Berlin and all but two train routes from the west had been severed. Trains on those routes no longer stopped at East Berlin stations and the deserted stations on the East Berlin side were locked up and patrolled.

Daryl and Beth had entered the U-Bahn on a line that wasn't secure, but no longer connected to West Berlin. Or not officially. On foot they might find a way though, or a way to tunnel through.

…

Maggie ate quickly. It was just her and Shawn at home for dinner, for the third time that week. Shawn was looking at Beth's empty place like he was going to burn holes in it with his eyeballs.

He thumped his fist on the table. 'Is it not enough that she shames us by being arrested? Where is she?'

Maggie was beginning to loath her brother. When Beth had returned, Shawn hadn't told her he was glad she was home, or hugged her, or asked her if she was all right. Instead he'd looked at her like she was something dirty and told her she'd made a fool of him in front of his fellow border guards.

'I don't know,' Maggie said, not looking up. 'She must want fresh air after being in a cell for a fortnight.'

'Fresh air,' he scoffed, and pointed at the front door. 'It is below zero out there. She is too stupid to be a traitor but too stupid to realise she is behaving like one. What will we tell the Stasi if they show up at the door right now, looking for her?'

 _All the rest of my family_ , Maggie thought, scowling down at her plate, _is scattered far and wide, perhaps lost to me forever, and I am stuck here with you._

…

Two hours later Daryl and Beth found the abandoned station. It had been closed in the 1920s when there had been changes to the line. No trains ran this way anymore, and it couldn't be reached from the surface. Daryl broke open the door to the station manager's office and they went inside.

Beth looked around. It was dusty and cobwebby, and cold, but it was dry at least. She put down her backpack and smiled at Daryl. 'It's not so bad. It will be a treat after Hohenschönhausen.'

Daryl kicked at the droppings on the floor. 'Goddamn rats.'

Beth looked too, feeling a little queasy. 'Maybe it's just mice.' He was looking at her with a stony expression. 'Daryl. Please. I know what you're going to say.'

He dumped his bag and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, and played with the wrapper while he smoked.

Beth said, 'One of us has to stay on the outside. If we both disappear then the Stasi could figure everything out. I'm already under suspicion. It's better that it's me.'

The U-Bahn network was huge. It could take weeks, months trying to figure a way through to the other side a few hours a night. But with someone living down here, exploring it constantly … It was a good plan. But when Beth had suggested that she be the one to do it Daryl refused. He'd always done his own reconnaissance.

Eventually she'd talked him round, saying she'd go over the Wall, but only if he let her do this first. And down in the U-Bahn, she'd pointed out, she'd be safe from Commandant Blake.

'I know,' he muttered. 'Don't mean I have to like leavin' you down here in the goddamn dark.'

Beth wanted to go to him, to hug him, but he'd been so prickly with her after that first night. He'd held her then, but wouldn't touch her now, and she didn't understand why.

He helped her set up a makeshift camp in the office, sweeping out the dust and the droppings, plugging up holes chewed in the skirting board and spreading a thin mattress on the floor. She had two blankets and some spare clothes in a pillow case for a pillow. Most of the weight they'd carried in was batteries and tinned food.

In not much time they were done. She looked at her watch. It was past two in the morning. 'You go,' she said. 'You need some sleep before your shift.'

He nodded but didn't move.

'I want to do this, Daryl.'

'I know. I was just thinkin' about later. After. What will you do once you're on the other side?'

Beth frowned. 'I'm not going yet, you know. There's a lot of work still to do.'

He studied her closely. 'You ain't comin' out again, Beth. Not on the east side. Not once he knows you're missin'.'

Beth looked away. She was angry with him for reminding her. She supposed he just wanted her to be sure she knew there was no going back, but it was a lousy thing to leave her with, down there in the dark. 'I know,' she said, as if she hadn't forgotten that she'd said goodbye to East Berlin forever.

Daryl turned toward the door. 'All right. See you in two days.'

…

Lori had just got home from Stasi Headquarters when there was a knock on her door. She opened it to find her ex-husband on the threshold. He was the last person she wanted to see after a long day. She was the only secretary at Commandant Blake's office right now and he had been more than usually unpleasant to work with since Beth had left them.

'What do you want?' she asked.

Rick looked uncertain. Tired. She'd seen that look a lot in the months before they'd broken up, and she'd learned to let it make her angry. It was easier than acknowledging that she didn't know how to fix it.

'Just to see you, Lori. Please?'

She should have shut the door in his face – they didn't have anything to say to each other – but instead she found herself standing back to let him in. She didn't have to pretend with Rick. Shane expected her to be cheerful and attentive. Blake expected her to enjoy the way he took his frustrations out on her, or at least not to complain. Rick just let her be.

Going to the fridge she took out a bottle of beer, opened it, and passed it to him. She got a glass of water for herself and they sat together on the couch, and she tucked her legs under herself and sighed. They were both silent for a long time, and Lori was just feeling herself begin to enjoy Rick's presence when he spoke.

'I still love you, Lori.'

She closed her eyes briefly. 'Don't, Rick.'

'I do. I think you love me too. I know you don't love Walsh or Blake.'

Lori turned to him sharply. 'Why the hell would I love Blake?' He couldn't know about _that_ , surely. She'd never told anyone about it. Was Blake bragging to people that he was sleeping with her? He'd sworn that he never would. There'd be hell between Blake and Shane if Shane found out. The Party and the Stasi needed each other, and both were powerful in their own right.

Rick looked away and she knew he knew about her and Blake. She swore under her breath. 'Does Shane know?'

'No.'

'How the hell do _you_ know?'

Rick stroked his thumb over the label of his beer. 'I didn't know. Not for sure. I've seen something in the commandant's eye when he looks at you. The way he is around Walsh.'

Lori thought about this. It was possible. Rick had always been perceptive, and she'd seen the looks Blake had given Walsh behind Walsh's back.

'Why do you let him, Lori?'

Lori folded her arms. 'It's not so bad, you know. People have it a lot worse in this country. Look what happened to Beth.'

He reached out to her, but she shrugged him off. 'It could have just as easily been you, you think, if you'd refused him?'

She levelled a stare at him. 'Maybe. I don't fancy finding out. If that stupid miss had just let him do what he wanted she would still have a comfy little job and I wouldn't have to put up with him pawing at me.'

Rick looked pained. 'Come back to me, and you won't have to put up with it, I promise you.'

Lori rolled her eyes. 'If Shane can't stop him, neither can you.'

'Shane doesn't know it's happening. I know. I can get you another job – get you out –'

Lori was about to say, _What are you talking about? Get me out?_ when Rick put a hand over her mouth and said, 'Get you out of Stasi Headquarters and into a better job.'

She stared at him. There'd been a flash of fear in his eyes and she knew he hadn't meant that. He had meant out of East Berlin. He put a finger over his lips and gave her a warning look. What the hell was going on?

'I'd better go,' he said, putting his beer bottle down.

Lori looked around her apartment. Did Rick know something she didn't?

…

Lori walked him outside. As soon as they were in the street she turned on him and hissed, 'What the hell, Rick? Is my apartment bugged? And why are you talking about getting me out of East Berlin? There isn't a way to get out of East Berlin.'

Rick pulled her into a nearby doorway. He hadn't meant for it to slip out but the image of her submitting to Blake had made him forget himself. 'Yes, it's bugged.'

She pushed her hands through her hair. 'What the hell? Why bug my apartment? I haven't done anything. Has Shane –?'

Rick thought quickly, wondering what to say. He'd already said far too much. Daryl would be furious with him. They'd mended their friendship since Beth had been released and it had got Rick thinking that he and Lori might have another chance together if they were on the other side of the Wall. 'I don't know,' he lied. 'Someone must have implicated you or Shane in something. It happens all the time.'

'Don't act like it's nothing, Rick. Who implicated us?'

Rick swore under his breath. She wasn't going to let it go. 'It doesn't matter, Lori. The Stasi feed on paranoia. You probably haven't even been singled out for a good reason. Just forget about it.'

She stared at him, eyes glittering. 'Go to hell, Rick.'

Rick watched her go back upstairs, wanting to follow her but knowing it wouldn't do any good. Lori wasn't the sort of woman to stir up trouble and he could see how badly she wanted to keep the peace between Walsh and Blake. But everyone had their breaking point. Maybe Lori had just reached hers.

…

Blake put down the phone. The supervisor of the factory where Beth had been assigned to start work this week work had called. She had been expected three days earlier. She hadn't shown up yet.

He was thoughtful, tapping the blotter on his desk with a forefinger. Beth had been beaten soundly for two weeks. Perhaps the pain and a slight sense of rebellion meant she was taking her time going back to work.

He lifted the phone and called his informant in Beth's building. No, the informant hadn't seen the youngest Greene in several days.

Blake slammed the phone down. There was nowhere else she could be. The mantra was running over and over through his mind: _She wouldn't dare._

He picked up the phone a third time and ordered two soldiers to go to the Greenes' flat to ascertain if she was there. He waited, hands clenched. Twenty minutes later the phone rang.

'No, Commandant Blake, there's no one home.'

Blake saw red. She had dared. She'd schemed her way out of his prison and then disappeared. Someone was going to pay for this.

'Go back to the flat and remain there until the sister comes home,' he snarled, 'and then bring her to me.'

…

 **Thank you to Nine Bright Shiners for her critique notes!**

 **We're getting close to the end of** ** _They Seek Him Here_** **now. Thank you so much for all taking a chance on such an unusual setting for a** ** _Walking Dead_** **fic and reading it and leaving me so much encouragement! Any guesses on how it's going to turn out? :)**

 **I have just posted the first chapter of the new story that I will be working on in earnest once this story has concluded. Please do check it out and let me know what you think! It's called** ** _Doctor Blake and Mr Hyde_** **, and its a Bethernor (Beth/Governor) romance/drama set in Victorian England. I know, weird historical setting again! I hope you check it out and leave me a review letting me know what you think.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Important notice! I posted a chapter of _They Seek Him Here_ yesterday but I'm pretty sure the notification didn't reach most/all of you who've been reading this story. So if you haven't read yesterday's chapter do go back and check it out :)**

 **The reason I think the notification didn't go out, by the way, is because I posted the first chapter of my Walking Dead/Jekyll and Hyde mash-up _Doctor Blake and Mr Hyde_ , and I think this site only sends one notification per person per day. This is the story I'll be focusing on once _They Seek Him Here_ is done.**

 **Onwards! Or, backwards first to Chapter 21 ... then onwards!**

...

'Can this wait, Walsh? I'm busy.'

Comrade Walsh slammed the door to Blake's office shut, a sour expression on his face. 'You don't look busy to me,' he said.

Blake clenched his jaw. Perhaps sitting behind his desk thinking murderous thoughts didn't look outwardly busy, but Blake was thoroughly engaged, and he wasn't in the mood for a Party tantrum. Every time there was the smallest security breach or unfavourable rumour circling the populace the Party blamed the Stasi. Blake had bigger things to worry about. If Beth had escaped East Berlin just days after being released from the Stasi prison he was going to have some serious problems from very high up in the very near future.

Walsh stood in front of him, studying his face. No, studying his injury. He'd finally removed the bandages and now wore a black leather eye-patch.

'It's a good look on you,' Walsh said. 'Makes you seem duplicitous.' He said this with a disdainful thrust of his chin and Blake realised that it wasn't the Stasi that Walsh was upset with. It was him. Blake knew all to well that there were several things that Walsh might be legitimately angry with him about. He'd best proceed carefully.

Blake sat forward, giving Walsh a smile. 'Why don't you sit down,' he said, in a more welcoming manner, and Walsh sat in the chair opposite his desk.

'You've screwed me, Blake,' Walsh said, his eyes flashing and insolent. 'You're abusing your powers and I'm going to see to it that you pay.'

Blake kept his face blank. Was he talking about the bugging, or was he talking about sleeping with Frau Grimes? Walsh was angry, but it seemed like a professional rather than personal affront.

It must be about the bugging. How the hell had he found out?

There was still a chance to appease Walsh, as Walsh had come directly to him rather than going over his head. Had Beth had a hand in this? Perhaps she'd gone to Lori before she'd disappeared. How could someone so small become such a massive headache?

Blake got up and went to the table beneath the window, and poured two tumblers of whisky. 'I know what you've come to see me about, Comrade Walsh. I assure you I find it as despicable as you do.' He held out a glass to Walsh but he ignored it. He put the glass down close to the other man and sat back down.

Walsh scoffed at this. 'You find it despicable? You've put a Party member under surveillance! You've abused the trust between –' He shook his head. 'No, fuck the niceties. You've screwed me, Blake. I expect you to resign.'

Blake couldn't remember how many meetings he'd sat in on with the Party where they'd insisted on more informants, more taps, more secret police. East Germany was outstripping Russia in terms of intelligence spending and paranoia. And yet Comrade Walsh had the gall to barge into his office and complain about being under surveillance. He was a goddamn hypocrite.

'We've both been screwed, Walsh.' He took a sip of whisky.

'What?'

'I've been screwed. You've been screwed. And by the same person. She's a born and bred East Berliner but the fascists have got to her somehow. I had her – I had her in Hohenschönhausen for nearly two weeks. I personally oversaw her interrogation, but she didn't break.'

Walsh stared at him, incredulous. 'Are you talking about your _secretary?_ '

He touched his hand briefly to his eyepatch. 'There's a lot more to that girl than meets the – well, let's just say there's a lot more to that girl that one might expect.'

Walsh shook his head, disbelief written all over his face. 'She told you to spy on me and Lori and you just did it?'

 _In a nut-shell, yes. I have an excellent sense of irony._ 'I had no choice.'

He could tell this didn't appease Walsh. He tried another tack. 'She's trying to turn us on each other, Walsh. That's what the fascists want. That's how they will win. But we can't let them win.'

'Don't fob me off with propaganda, Blake. I churn out bullshit all day. I need to know why you did it.'

Blake spread his hands. 'I wish I could tell you what she said to throw suspicion onto the two of you but I can't. It has to do with certain recent defections over the Wall. We're still following up everything she told us and it's classified.' He leaned forward, frowning deeply. 'It has to stay that way, because she's disappeared.'

'The hell she has,' Walsh said, but there was more surprise than heat in his voice. Walsh thought about this for a moment. Blake saw that the man's anger was diminishing and felt a little rush of self-satisfaction.

'I ceased the surveillance of you and Frau Grimes several days ago,' Blake lied. 'I can provide you with the reports and you can destroy them yourself.' _They're so dull I won't even keep copies._

There was a knock at the door.

'Come.'

A Stasi soldier entered, followed by the young woman whom Blake supposed was Beth's sister. She was flanked by two more soldiers. 'Commandant. We have brought Miss Greene for questioning as requested.'

Blake shot a look at Walsh. He had turned and was staring at the girl. Blake couldn't have asked for better timing.

He stood and dismissed the soldiers. Miss Greene stood in the centre of the room, staring at the ground, though he could see that she was scowling, not crying. He felt a flash of irritation. Was she going to be as stubborn as her sister? Where the hell had all the timid women gone?

He turned to Walsh. 'Comrade Walsh, shall we return to this matter tomorrow? I will have the reports you requested ready for you then.'

Walsh turned and gave Blake a long, assessing look. Blake saw that Beth's sister's appearance had worked it's magic - the heat of anger had left his eyes. Walsh nodded. 'All right, Blake.' He left and closed the door behind him.

When they were alone Blake sat and watched Miss Maggie Greene for several minutes. She was a little older than Beth, and taller and stronger, too. She didn't have the delicacy that he'd admired in Beth, or her pretty doll-like eyes. This Miss Greene was probably the more outwardly truthful: she wore her wilfulness right there on her face.

Finally he said, 'You're not in any trouble, Miss Greene. I just wanted to talk to you about your sister. I'm worried about her. Won't you sit down?'

…

'That's it? You're not going to take it any higher?' Lori stared at Shane, unable to believe her ears.

They were at Lori's dining table, eating dinner. He sat back, looking uncomfortable. 'I can't. It's not his fault that –'

'Not his _fault?_ Blake is the one who ordered the surveillance. They're probably listening to us right now.'

He shook his head. 'They stopped several days ago.'

Sometimes Shane could be so dim that it hurt. Could he see that Blake was a consummate liar? No, he couldn't see, and he couldn't see what else was going on right under his nose either.

How could she go to work and face that man knowing that he'd not only invaded her professional life but her personal life as well? He was a dirty little secret she never wanted to have, and now he was in her apartment as well. One of his spiders listened to her in the bathroom. On the phone. In bed with Shane. There was no escape. It made her sick.

'Who's really in charge, Shane?' she asked, topping up her wine glass. 'Them, or you? Did he at least tell you why?'

Walsh sighed. 'That other secretary of his. The one who stabbed him in the eye. She told him we had something to do with the recent escapes, and now she's disappeared.'

' _Beth?_ Beth did this?' Lori understood at last what it meant to be incandescent with rage. Beth, who knew her most shameful secret, who acted so sweet and innocent, whom Lori had trusted – she'd just fingered them for no reason?

Shane picked up his fork and went on eating, sinking into a sullen silence. Lori sipped her wine, her mind ticking over.

Beth attacks Blake, winds up in prison, and somewhere along the way accuses her and Shane of working with traitors. Then she gets out of prison and disappears. And this on top of Rick somehow knowing that she was sleeping with Blake. She wasn't an informant and she wasn't trained by the Stasi, but she knew that when things didn't add up they deserved a second look.

The question was, who was going to be the most useful to her: Shane, the commandant, or Rick?

…

Maggie tried not to feel intimidated by the commandant's wood-panelled office, the desk he was sitting behind, his large physical presence. But she was. The eye-patch made her uncomfortable, too. His one good eye seemed to bore into her.

'How long ago did you last see your sister, Maggie?'

Maggie shrugged. 'A few days ago. I don't know.'

Blake frowned. 'You don't know?'

Maggie'd had time to think of what she was going to tell Blake on the way to his office. She didn't know if her strategy was going to work, but it was all she had. 'I work long hours. I queue for food. Sometimes we don't see each other for a few days together. And if truth be told I haven't been keeping a close eye on her since she came out of prison.' She fixed him with a baleful look. 'Why, what's she gone and done now?'

Blake looked at her closely. 'You're not close to your sister?'

'Beth's a troublemaker, and I keep out of her way. Both me and Shawn. He's a border guard.'

'Are you aware that she's disappeared?'

Maggie rolled her eyes, warming to her performance. 'See? Troublemaker. I wash my hands of that girl.'

She spied a letter opener on his desk and wondered if it was the same one. _Rapist. Murderer. It'd almost be worth taking your other eye right now._

'I see,' said Blake. 'So you don't have any idea where she might be?'

'Nope.'

'Does she have a boyfriend?'

'Not that I've met.'

Commandant Blake watched her for several long minutes, his one good eye assessing her. Maggie pretended to be bored, looking around his office at the insignias and picture. Her heart was racing and all the while she was thinking, _Beth had nearly two weeks of this man, beating and torturing her. I can keep it together for one interview._

'Can I go now?' she finally said. 'My brother's always hungry when he comes off shift and I've got to start his dinner.'

Blake nodded, and Maggie walked to the door and let herself out, her movements unhurried. He didn't stop her, but she also was sure that he didn't quite believe her.

…

Beth watched in horror as the torchlight faded and scrabbled through her backpack for another set of batteries. She'd been caught out like this once before, plunged into utter blackness when her torch had died, and she hated the sensation. The deserted stretches of the U-Bahn were dark as a tomb.

Her hands closed over the batteries – and the torch died. _Don't panic. You can change the batteries with your eyes closed. Doing it in the dark is no different._

She sat down on the rocky ground, placing the fresh batteries in her lap and unscrewing the torch to take the old ones out. In a few minutes she was finished and clicked the torch on. The tunnel was illuminated once more and she breathed a sigh of relief.

And then froze when she heard a crunch behind her. Several crunches. More than one person.

There was a chuckle, and a deep, male voice said, 'We got a rat here, buddies. Ain't ever seen a blonde rat before.'

Beth heard the unmistakeable sound of a gun being cocked, and her heart sank.

...

 **If you were wondering why Blake said 'the fascists have got to her' when he talked about Beth being a possible traitor, the communists referred to westerners as fascists. They also put it about that all the Nazis (actual fascists) in WWII originated in West Germany. How's that for rewriting history?**


	23. Chapter 23

Beth turned slowly, still sitting on the ground. A light was shining in her eyes but she could just make out the shape of three people. One was very large, two were smaller, about Beth's size. One she thought, had long hair. Their silhouettes were baggy and informal. Not soldiers, then. But they still had a gun trained on her.

'What do you want?' she called. She made her voice sounds as neutral as possible but inside she was dismayed. She hadn't seen sunlight in four days or breathed fresh air. She was dirty and sick of eating tinned beans and mackerel, and could never seem to get warm. But what really got her down was that she hadn't found a way to get through to the tunnels on the western side of Berlin, or any likely place to tunnel through.

The tall man spoke. 'We'll ask the questions. You armed?'

'Yes. There's a handgun in my backpack.' She squinted up at them. The flashlight was still trained in her eyes and she couldn't see much.

There was a snort; a feminine snort. 'Not much use in there, is it?'

'No,' Beth agreed. 'But I wasn't expecting company.' Daryl had been down to see her once but they'd decided he should only come rarely in case he was spotted going into the tunnels. The next time he came, if she hadn't made any progress, they were going to have to talk about getting her over the Wall another way. She couldn't come out again. Blake would have worked out by now that she'd disappeared.

The last thing she wanted was to go alone. She'd find her mother on the other side of the Wall, and safety from interrogation and torture. But she wouldn't have Maggie. She wouldn't have the familiarity of home. And she wouldn't have Daryl.

Alone in the darkness of the U-Bahn she'd thought that if she found a way through then they could all go together: her, Maggie, Glenn and Daryl. Daryl could pass on instructions about the route to safety to his network and they could come through without his help. It was a wonderful fantasy, but it was nothing more. He seemed to be drawing away from her each time she saw him.

The man said, 'Throw your bag here. Then slowly stand up, hands over your head.'

Beth did what she was told, and the girl with long hair came forward to frisk her. She could just make out that she was pretty and dark-haired with full lips.

'No weapons,' the girl called to the others, and stood back.

The flashlight moved away from Beth's eyes, and she could see them. The tall man was a redhead, and very broad. The other two figures were both women, both dark-haired, and about Maggie's age. The one that hadn't frisked her had heavy brows and sallow skin, and was squatting on the rails and going through her backpack.

'Check this out.' She held out the map of the U-Bahn for the others to see.

The man looked at the map, then looked at Beth, suspicion in his eyes. 'What are you doing with this?'

Beth looked them over once more. She recognised the cheap, synthetic fabric of their clothes and their unimaginative cut, the pinched looks on their faces and hard desperation in their eyes. They looked like she did.

'Same as you,' Beth said. 'Trying to find a way through.'

The pretty one narrowed her eyes at Beth. 'Who says we're trying to find a way through? You been following us?'

Beth gave a short bark of laughter. 'If I was, I deserved to be caught. I'm not with the Stasi. Can I put my hands down now?'

The man was still pointing a gun at her. 'How do we know you're telling the truth?'

Slowly, Beth turned her back to them and lifted the hem of her shirt, exposing her ribs and lower back. The bruises hadn't faded yet.

'Damn,' said the sallow girl. 'What happened to you?'

Beth faced them once more. 'Two weeks in Hohenschönhausen.'

'And they didn't break you?' the pretty one asked.

 _Not physically. And not mentally, not in the sense that you mean. He didn't get anything out of me. But they've broken me for this place that I once called home._

The two girls were looking at her with an expression of grudging respect.

'I'm looking for a way out,' Beth said.

The red-headed man shook his head. 'Not this way, you're not. These are our tunnels.' He turned to the sallow girl. 'Give her back her backpack, but not the gun.'

Beth frowned at him. 'They're not your tunnels.' The backpack was thrown at her and she caught it.

'They're our tunnels,' the man repeated. 'The Stasi ain't twigged that there might be a way through down here yet and we can't have people traipsing in and out drawing their attention to the fact. If we see you down here again, we'll shoot you.'

…

Rick arrived at the restaurant and saw that Lori was already at the table. She was wearing a navy blue satin dress and her long, dark hair was tumbling over one shoulder. She was still as beautiful as she was when he'd first seen her, eight years earlier. There'd been warmth in her eyes then, and for many years after. But they'd turned cold and hard since their baby had died. Shane hadn't been able to warm them, and while Rick hated to see her so unhappy, it also gave him hope that they might one day work things out between them.

When he got to the table she looked up at him, her expression tense.

'Thank you for coming,' she said, stubbing her cigarette out.

Rick sat down and glanced around. The restaurant was dark and there weren't any people seated close to them. They could talk safely. 'Of course.'

They ordered drinks, and then Lori got right to the point. 'Rick, I'm worried about Beth. I've heard from the commandant that she didn't report for work, and that she's disappeared.'

'Has she?' Rick kept his face carefully blank. He was disappointed. He thought Lori wanted to talk about them, and he'd already run off at the mouth enough to Lori. Daryl would kill him if he gave anything else away, and rightly so.

'We were close, you see. I was so worried about her when she was in prison and so happy when she was released. She hasn't done anything dangerous, has she?'

Rick frowned, puzzled. 'Why are you asking me? I don't know the girl.' In fact he knew exactly where Beth was: in the U-Bahn tunnels. But that had nothing to do with Lori. 'I didn't realise you were so close, either.'

Lori dropped her eyes and lit another cigarette. She waited till the waitress brought their wine, and then said, her voice low and throaty, 'What you said the other night, does it still stand? Can you get me out?'

Rick smiled and reached for her hand. She pulled away. 'Don't, Rick. Someone might be watching.'

He nodded, swallowing his disappointment. 'I can get you out. But what's changed your mind?'

'Did you get Beth out?'

Rick sat back. Why this preoccupation with Beth? Was she worried that Beth had been caught escaping? 'I don't want to talk about Beth. I want to talk about us.'

She made a placating gesture. 'All right. Fine. After I talked to you I told Shane about our apartments being bugged. He was angry at first, but after he confronted the commandant about it he came back and he was just …' She shook her head, disbelieving. 'He just didn't seem to care . Can you comprehend that? He just swallowed whatever excuses the commandant gave him.'

Rick thought about this. Walsh was a man of reactions, not actions. He wasn't dim-witted, but he took things at face-value. He'd got to where he was in the Party by asserting himself, not manipulating. Blake was the sort of man who could run rings around him. 'I can believe that, Lori. Blake can be very persuasive.'

Lori leaned forward. 'I don't want to live in a country,' she hissed, 'where we just have to put up with that sort of thing. And I didn't think you did either. When the war ended it was supposed to be different. Better. How did we end up like this?'

Rick might be in the Party but he'd never liked the Wall. People should be given incentives to stay, not made to.

She looked at him, her eyes imploring. 'I think you must feel the same. I know it's taken me a while to catch up with you, but I understand now. I guess I had to work it out for myself.' And suddenly her eyes softened. It was the look Rick had been wanting to see for so long.

'You want – to come to the West with me?' he asked, hesitating over the words, not daring to believe what he was hearing.

'Yes. I want to get out with you.'

Rick felt himself sag with emotion. 'I've waited for you,' he said, his voice tender. 'I knew you'd come back to me.' Then he became serious. 'All right. I need you to sit tight. I'll arrange everything.'

She smiled at him. 'How will you get us out?'

His thoughts were running ahead. Would Daryl help, or would he have to do it himself? How soon could he manage it? 'I can't say yet.'

'Will someone help you?'

He shook his head. 'I'm not sure. But it will be soon.'

She became imploring again. 'Won't you tell me? It's me, Rick. You can tell me anything.'

Did she have to be so curious? The thing to focus on was that they would soon be together in the West. He frowned. 'That's not how it works, Lori.'

'How it works?' she asked, tilting her head to one side. 'You make it sound as if there's some sort of network.'

…

An hour later Lori was home. She stood by her window watching Rick disappear down the street. He'd been distracted on the walk home, but happy. He wouldn't tell her anything else, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that she'd soon know everything and would be able to hand the whole thing over to Commandant Blake for a nice fat reward. Once she had means then she could free herself from the people that had used her and disappointed her forever.

She felt a pang of regret that when this was all over Rick would wind up in prison along with Beth and whoever else was involved. But there was a price to be paid for what they were doing, and for once she wasn't going to be the one to pay it.

…

The phone rang and Daryl picked it up, glaring at his brother where he sat slumped in a chair, watching television. When was Merle going to get his own goddamn place? He didn't trust his brother so having him around all the time made him twitchy.

'It's me,' said a voice. Rick. 'Meet me downstairs now?'

'Okay.' Daryl put the phone down and shrugged into his coat.

'Where you goin', baby brother?' Merle called.

'Mind your own damn business,' Daryl muttered over his shoulder.

Rick was standing on the street corner and they walked slowly around the block together. 'How's Beth getting on?' Rick asked.

Daryl shoved his hands deep in his coat. 'Nothin' yet, but I ain't seen her in a couple of days.'

Rick gave him a long look. 'You don't sound too optimistic.'

He didn't feel too optimistic. Nothing felt good anymore. Nothing felt hopeful. He'd been on a razor's edge the whole time Beth had been in prison. He'd been so relieved when she'd been released, and so thankful when he'd seen her again, but his happiness had congealed into bitterness and he didn't quite know why. Even the thought that she'd be successful and find a way through to the West couldn't make him hopeful.

He shrugged.

'I want her to find a way through to other side for her sake, and for all the people in your group,' Rick said. 'And for Lori, too. Blake bugging her apartment has been the last straw for her.'

Daryl stopped dead and turned to Rick, his eyes narrowed. 'What the hell have you told Lori?'

'I've told her I can get her out.'

'You _told_ her that?'

A look of irritation flashed over Rick's face. 'You don't hold the patent for escaping to the West, Daryl.'

Daryl clenched his teeth. Rick could be such a goddamn fool when it came to that woman. Up until recently he hadn't understood people who let themselves get talked into doing stupid things because of the way they felt, but hadn't Daryl done just that when he let Beth talk him into staying where she was? Right after she'd ended up in prison. He needed to listen to his instincts and his instincts told him that Lori was a whole lot of trouble.

'I didn't mean that,' Daryl growled. 'I meant, did you imply that there was anyone else you were involved with?'

Rick's eyes slid away, as if he was thinking, but Daryl saw the spark of realisation in their depths.

He had. God _damn_. 'What the hell, Rick? Don't you see what you've done? She knows that it's not just you. There's someone else – there's a goddamn _group_.'

'She won't –'

Daryl lost his cool. 'She probably came to you looking for just that information. How many questions did she ask you, huh? Did she ask how you would do it? Who would help you?'

Rick thought for a moment, hands on hips, head bowed. Finally, he said, voice heavy, 'She did ask a lot of questions. About getting out, and about Beth, too. She asked about Beth first. Said she was worried about her.'

Daryl swore under his breath, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. When he looked up again he saw a figure move in the darkness, hurrying away.

All the nervous energy that had been keeping Daryl ticking over the last few weeks suddenly left him. He took a few steps to the right and leaned his body against a brick wall. It was all unravelling before his eyes.

He could feel Rick's eyes on him, not comprehending. He pointed after the retreating figure. 'Merle. He heard everything we just said.'

Rick turned and saw him too. Merle turned a corner, away from Daryl's flat, and was gone.

Daryl levered himself upright and turned away, heading back to his apartment. 'It's over. It's done.' If Lori didn't tell Blake about what she knew, Merle would.

'Done?' Rick called after him. 'But what about the group?'

'There is no group anymore.'

...

 **So a while back I recommended _Deutschland 83_ to you all. How good is it! It feels like spies are the flavour of the month because I have two more new spy dramas to kick your way. Who else has seen _The Man in the High Castle_? I binge-watched all of season 1 last week and now there are another nine months till season 2 airs. Gah! It's a dystopian drama set in the US in 1962. The Germans and the Japanese beat the allies in WWII and divided the States east from west. It's beautifully shot and there are some great characters on both sides, and in the Resistance, but the stand-out performance has to be Rufus Sewell as Obergruppenführer Smith, the sleekly sinister SS officer who's running one of the spies. **

**The other show that I am hopping about with excitement to see is _The Night Manager:_ A hotel night manager (Tom Hiddleston) is recruited by a government agent to infiltrate the trusted inner circle of a ruthless arms dealer (Hugh Laurie; in the US you'll know him as Dr Gregory House). It's airing on the BBC at the end of this month and on AMC in April. The trailer is on YouTube and it looks so good!**

 **Finally, what did you think of today's chapter? I haven't named the three people who have threatened to kill Beth, but did you work out who they are?**


	24. Chapter 24

**It's been so long since my last update so here's a quick recap of where we are:**

 **Beth is in the U-Bahn tunnels on the East Berlin side, looking for a way through to the West. She's being held at gunpoint by Abraham, Tara and Rosita.**

 **Blake is furious that Beth has disappeared just days after he released her from prison, and has just questioned Maggie over Beth's whereabouts. Maggie has pretended to have fallen out with Beth, but is not sure whether Blake believes her.**

 **Lori has just discovered that Blake has been bugging her and Shane's apartments because of Beth, and she is royally pissed. She's gone to Rick, supposedly to ask him to get her out, but really because she suspects he knows where Beth is and she wants to get revenge on her, and a reward for herself.**

 **Rick and Daryl have just fallen out over Rick's desire to help his former wife, whom Daryl suspects of duplicity.**

 **Merle's overheard their conversation and now knows for sure that Daryl, Rick and Beth are traitors. Daryl sees Merle hurrying away and realises the game is up.**

 **Thank you to Nine Bright Shiners for her fabulous notes!**

 **Onwards! This is the SECOND LAST chapter. I can't believe it's nearly over.**

…

The two girls stared at the tall, red-headed man. 'Shoot her?' said the one with dark brows and shoulder-length hair. 'Are you nuts, Abraham? We don't shoot other Berliners.'

Abraham cast his eyes to the roof of the tunnel, exasperated. 'Goddamn, don't say my name.'

The other woman looked thoughtful a moment and then turned to Beth. 'I'm Rosita. That's Tara. And our friend here, I swear, is not going to shoot you.' She glared at Abraham. 'Are you?' she asked, her voice hard.

Abraham dropped the gun he was holding to his side. 'Great. Just great. How do we know she's not going to run to the Stasi now?'

The one called Tara handed Beth's gun back to her. 'His bark is worse than his bite.' Tara gave her a thoughtful look. 'Is it just you, or are there others relying on you?'

Beth tucked the gun down the back of her trousers. She looked at each of these strangers in turn. They'd frightened her, but she didn't blame them for their caution. If she came clean with them they might do the same with her.

She nodded. 'There are others relying on me. I've been down here for days on my own, searching. I can't go back to the surface. The Stasi are looking for me.'

Rosita wrinkled her nose. 'That sucks. It's the pits down here.'

'I'm just looking for a way through for my people,' Beth said. 'If we work together, maybe we can all get what we want.'

Abraham gave her a narrow look. 'What's in it for us?'

Beth could see that it was him she was going to have to convince, but she didn't have the energy for an impassioned speech. She was just going to hope her honesty and desperation was enough. 'Nothing, I suppose. Just the knowledge that we're on the same side, united against the Stasi. We're stronger together.'

'You're trouble, missie. You've already got the Stasi on your tail. And besides …' He laughed, changing weight from his left foot to his right, almost swaggering. 'We don't need you.'

There was something about the cocky way he spoke that gave him away. 'You've already found a way through to the West. Haven't you?'

…

 _Go to hell, Merle. Mind your own damn business, Merle._ 'Fuck you too, baby brother,' Merle growled to himself as he hurried away from Daryl's flat.

So Beth was looking for a way over the Wall and Blake's brunette secretary was getting antsy to get out, too. This was real interesting. Everyone thought old Merle was a thicko, good-fer-nothin' waste of space. Even that fancy commandant sittin' up there in HQ with his big desk and his fancy uniform. Had he got any leads about Beth? Merle didn't think so.

Everyone had underestimated ol' Merle. He was going to show 'em. And he knew just where he was going to start.

…

Blake looked over the border guard standing in front of his desk. Another Greene to grace his office in less than twenty-four hours. Too bad it wasn't the one he was interested in.

'Take a seat, Private Greene.'

Greene remained at attention. 'Thank you, sir, but I prefer to stand.'

Something about Greene's overtly obedient manner reminded Blake of his military days, and he took a sudden dislike to the young man. He didn't recall his army days with any affection. Being a soldier in the Wehrmacht and fighting for that madman had been demeaning, and he'd almost been glad to have been captured and put into a POW camp. His only regret had been that he'd had no way of communicating with Hannah. Had they had a boy or a girl? he'd wondered over and over again those long, hot nights in Northern Africa. Did she still love him? Were they safe? Were they waiting for him somewhere away from the bombing?

'Very well. What have you come to see me about?'

Private Greene fixed his eyes somewhere over Blake's head and said, 'My sister, sir. Maggie Greene. She's been acting strangely these past few weeks. I think you are aware that my other sister, Beth, has disappeared.'

Blake ground his teeth together. Aware that Beth was missing? It was all he could think about. 'And?' he bit out.

'I think Maggie knows where she is, sir.'

Blake looked thoughtfully at the private. People were so willing to betray their loved ones to ingratiate themselves with the Stasi. It never ceased to amaze him. What did Greene want from him? A pat on the back? A promotion? If he came through with some information that led to Beth's whereabouts he could probably see to it.

Would Private Greene still do it, though, if he knew what Blake was going to do to his sister?

It wasn't Beth's betrayal of East Berlin that made Blake hate her. It was her betrayal of him. He'd wanted her, confided in her. She let him think that she'd confided in him. Had she been playing him the whole time? He didn't know, and it was the not knowing that kept him awake at night, shifting angrily beneath the sheets.

Blake sat forward, writing two numbers on a scrap of paper.

'This is the number for my direct line, and the phone number of my flat. If you see Beth I want you to call me immediately.' He held the paper out to Private Greene, who took it with an expression of pleasure.

…

Beth pulled the scarf further over her hair, ducking her head as she hurried toward Daryl's flat. The day was misty and cold, but the snow had finally melted and Berlin was wreathed in grey instead of white.

It felt strange being back on the streets she'd said goodbye to, and she flinched whenever she passed another person. But it was too good an opportunity to miss. The three people she'd just met had a way through to the other side, and they were willing to reveal where the location was and work together if she could convince them that she and Daryl weren't amateurs who would put them in danger. Daryl would convince them, she was sure.

 _And then?_ she wondered, heart tight in her chest. She could be over the border that night with Maggie and Glenn. Daryl would stay behind, and he might as well be as far away as the moon, then, not on the other side of the same city. She tried to understand that he wanted to stay in East Berlin and help others get out. It had been what she'd wanted too until Blake had ruined it for her. But in the darkness of the lonely tunnels she'd wished that he might give it up to be with her, as selfish as that was.

She ducked gratefully inside his building and ran up to his floor. But hammering on the door drew no response. It was Saturday afternoon. Where was he? She'd be grateful even to see Merle right then because at least she'd have a safe place to wait if he'd let her in.

Ten minutes later the door was still closed, and Beth was getting antsy. It wouldn't do to loiter by his door, lest one of his neighbours get suspicious of her. She'd be better off coming back in half an hour or so.

There was a park a few blocks from his apartment and she went there, walking along the straight gravel paths, her hands deep in her pockets, feeling the cold seep slowly through her inadequate clothing.

 _Please come back soon, Daryl._

…

Lori sat on the park bench, scratching at the gravel with the toe of her leather boot. This time of year always got her down. Winter was giving way to spring, but it never happened fast enough. Every morning when she woke she hoped to see sunshine and blue skies, a hint of the warm air that would suffuse Berlin all through the long summer. But it was grey and clammy instead. Still, she didn't want to be inside with electronic ears listening to every move. Sometimes it felt like they were burrowing under her skin – little bugs, all with Blake's face on them.

She'd been in the park for nearly an hour, virtually on her own, when a solitary figure crunched past her. Lori glanced idly at the feminine profile, the lock of blonde hair that had escaped its headscarf.

It was too good to be true – but then, her luck had to change at some point.

'Beth?'

…

Beth turned at the sound of the woman's voice, her heart lurching. She saw Frau Grimes encased in a shearling coat, the tip of her nose reddened from cold, standing by a park bench.

Beth shook her head. 'I'm sorry, I –' She broke off and hurried away, not able to think of anywhere she had to be, or any reason why she would be in a park on a Saturday afternoon. Lori must know from the commandant that she'd disappeared.

'Beth, wait.' The woman hurried after her. 'It's safe, we can talk out here. No one's listening.'

She felt the woman lace her arm through hers like they were confidantes, but her grip was very tight. Beth shook her head. 'I have to go.'

'It's all right,' Lori said, dipping her mouth close to Beth's ear. 'I know. Rick's going to get me out, too. I'm with your group now.'

Beth stopped in her tracks, staring up at her.

…

Beth accepted the two fluffy towels from Lori with a grateful smile. 'Thank you. I haven't showered in days.'

Lori smiled and wrinkled her nose. 'I can see that. What have you been doing, digging a tunnel?'

She gave the woman an evasive smile and a half shrug. 'Something like that.' If Rick and Daryl had accepted her into the group then Lori was OK with her, but she knew better than to divulge all their secrets. 'Thank you for letting me come here, as well. I know it's a risk for you.'

Lori was dismissive. 'What's the danger if I'm getting out soon?

Beth put a hand on the woman's arm and said in a low voice, 'Watch what you say in here, all right?'

Something slid behind Lori's eyes as she looked at Beth. 'Oh. All right.'

Once in the shower Beth turned the hot water up as high as she could bear and scrubbed herself hard. In her head she drew up a list for herself. She'd get clean and warm, and perhaps get a change of clothes from Lori, and then she'd head back to Daryl's and leave a note under the door saying she'd be back every two hours till she saw him. Meanwhile she'd have to go to one of the safe houses. She couldn't keep putting Lori in danger by coming back here.

There had been something oddly wooden about the way Lori had said 'All right' when Beth had warned her to be careful what she said. Beth was thoughtful as she towelled herself off, but couldn't put her finger on what was nagging at her.

She stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in the towel just as Lori was putting the phone down. She almost slammed it down, and then gave Beth a rigid smile. 'Shane, wanting to come over. I told him it wasn't a good time. I've laid out some clothes for you in the bedroom, and there's some food in the kitchen. You must be starving.'

Beth was dressed in woollen trousers and a baggy knit jumper and eating pickles with gouda and brown bread in the kitchen when she heard the pounding of a heavy male stride somewhere on their floor.

 _Just a neighbour_ , she told herself. But the bottom fell out of her stomach as she listened to the footsteps sound along the passage. A long, confident stride. It stopped at Lori's door, and she heard it open.

 _It's Comrade Walsh, he's just let himself in._

But there were no sounds of greeting from Lori. No sounds at all, actually, except the blood rushing in Beth's ears.

Mid-chew, she stepped out of the kitchen and into the drawing room.

She'd forgotten how big he was, broad as well as tall. He filled the front doorway. For just the second time she'd seen him he wasn't wearing his uniform. The collar of his black leather coat was turned up and grazed the back of his head, and that and the black eyepatch made her heart thud with fear.

Lori stood to one side, smoking a cigarette, one elbow leaning on her crossed arm, not looking at either of them.

Commandant Blake's remaining blue eye was watching her, cold and unblinking.

'Hello, Beth.'

...

 **Uh-oh!**

 **Night Bright Shiners and I were lucky enough to see David Morrissey perform a W.H. Auden poem at a refugee benefit performance the other week. He was wonderful!**

 **HOW GOOD is the TWD S6 continuation! The last two eps have been perfection in my opinion. I was grinning all the way through Rick and Daryl's Excellent Adventure this week. 'That's _my_ gun!' **


End file.
